Grand Theft Auto: Waston
by Onkwehonwe Hedgehog
Summary: Four different criminals find themselves in the NE metropolis of Waston. One is an ex Mossad agent looking to escape his past and find a new life with his estranged family, a WPD officer towing the line between cop and criminal, & a criminal from the far
1. Welcome To Waston

_2009_

_Coming To America_

The platypus was making its first stop in a city aside from Liberty. Ezra Mizrahi looked at the approaching land with an eagerness as well as anxiety. He had not been to the United States in a very long time. He had been born in Tel Aviv, Israel but his parents had immigrated to the east coast of the United States when he was still a toddler. He had family in the US. Two cousins, both brothers. They had been born in the states and raised.

Ezra was thirty one old. He'd been born in 1978 and had lived in Liberty City with his own parents in close proximity to his cousins and their folks. They had lived in Colony Island at the time but they had moved back to the homeland in 1988 when he was just 10.

As close as he had been with his cousins he had not seen them in years. He had visited the as often as he could, mostly his younger cousin who had stayed in touch via email. They had moved to a new city that was older than Liberty City and was in a different state north of Liberty.

His older cousin had not kept in touch so much however. Behind him, were all kinds of immigrants but the majority of them were Chinese and middle eastern all though there were some Africans and a few Irishmen who he assumed had to be somewhat connected to the IRA.

A Chinese immigrant named Lao, was next to him. "You excited to go to America?" Ezra looked at him. Both of them had accents so it was in some ways hard to understand each other but English and them being migrants was all they had in common. Still they had befriended each other during the long boat ride. They had been lucky to not be stopped by the US Coast Guard. "Yes and no. I've been here before but not for a very long time. I did not live most of my life in this country so I do not know the ways."

Lao asked, "Did you read the American History book I give you? Not sugar coated ones either. When learning US history you must be careful what you read. Much like my home, the victors write the history and that history is usually lies. That book I give you is by Howard Zinn. He good man. Other books, you will have to get yourself. This strange land has history deeper than the United States exists. There is a lot to learn."

Ezra remarked, "You seem to know a lot for a man who is just about to arrive there for the first time,"

Lao shook his head. "This no my first time. I been many time before. I was here six years ago except immigration deport me. I went the other way, to San Fierro. For a country founded by immigrants, this country sure hate us. Still, it more opportunity here. I send what money I can back home to my family. I want to become legal eventually, go school, learn trade, use something I can take home make China better."

Ezra looked out at the distance between them and the harbor. "I'm here for family...and other reasons I'm not so sure of. I guess I am looking for a fresh start. I love my country but I have worn out my welcome there. It could be years before I could go back. Maybe I never can go back."

The friendly man said, "The same is true for me friend. I was a farmer back there but the crops died in the unforgiving sun,"

Ezra, had lost his parents when he was seventeen, killed by an Islamic extremist who had blown up a movie theater in Tel Aviv, their hometown, even though they were living in Jerusalem, they went back there. A few months after, was Ezra's eighteenth birthday and all Israeli males were required to join the service.

He had blamed the death of his parents on the Palestinian Liberation Organization so he joined the service gladly to defend the holy land from terrorists. He had served four years and had killed many people and completed a lot of missions. It was after that, he had taken up interest in working for the government. To help his people, his religion.

He had given up a lot of his youth toward protecting the country, working for Mossad. Recent behavior on his part had forced him to leave Israel. He was not about to talk about why with this man, even as friendly as he was. Here he was, a decade shy of 40 with no kids, no wife, and nobody that would miss him if he had been killed. So now, he was on his way to one of the oldest American cities in the country where what remained of his family was still there.

He finally arrived and they began loading off the boat. Lao said,l "Good luck to you, friend!"

Ezra waved and waited. Finally a dark red Willard came speeding up. His cousin Archie got out. Archie was a man with normally curly black hair but now it was cut short, he had a tan complexion and dark eyes and a head shaped like an egg. He wore a brown windbreaker and khaki shorts plus a Waston baseball hat. "Ezra! How the fuck are ya doing, buddy?!"

Ezra hugged the man and they both laughed heartily as they had not seen one another in years. Ezra was a contrast to Archie despite being the same age. Ezra had an athletic build and he had black curly hair but it was long much like Samson. He had a thick black beard and mustache as well. He wore a navy blue T shirt and black sweat pants. "Hello, Archie, it's been too long, brother."

Archie cackled and said, "You fucking smell like a garbage dump, dude! We gotta get you back to my apartment you're staying with me. Get you a shower. Jesus, didn't you guys bathe?" Ezra explained, "I did but it's very crowded in there. There were showers I think but only for the people that work on the crew not the people who paid to be brought here."

They approached Archie's dark red Sultan. "You know how to drive, Ezra? Ah what am I saying of course you do! But you had to drive on the other side of the rod, right? Here in America, we drive on the left side in case you forgot," Ezra assured him, "It's basically the same. It will take getting used to but I think I will manage."

He began to drive and asked, "So where to, cousin?" Archie directed the ex Mossad agent, "South Waston. 245 D Street. It's across the street from a cathedral. Don't worry, buddy I didn't convert and become a Jesuit."

He began to drive there following the GPS. "How's Gideon? I haven't heard much from him even in emails. It's like he lost touch."

Archie had a can of Pisswasser with him. "Ah fuck him. Look I love the guy he's family but he's way too serious! Always wants to work never taking time to just enjoy life. Most importantly no sense of humor. He's always been such a mamas by too. I mean I love ma, God rest her soul but hey nobody's perfect we can't all grow up to be business men! I'm a business man in my own right but I don't have anything to do with the horse shit, Gideon does. If being a working stiff means being a miserable asshole like him, I'm glad I do what I do. I get to be free and yes if I feel like it I do work on Saturdays."

Ezra had been a firm believer in it when he'd gone back home and even several yeas into his service but the things he had seen had made him question the existence of a God. He wasn't sure what was real. "So you're not taking the faith seriously?"

Archie defended himself. "Hey I go to synagogue when I can but you know I got a life! I'm not religious anymore! So many fucking rules! Gideon can take that shit to heart all he wants he ridicules me for not doing it. For eating pork. He can talk about it all he wants but he's never tried it. Have you, Ezra?"

Ezra replied with a chuckle, "I'm not too sure about it myself anymore but no I've never tried it. I guess I stayed with the traditions long after my faith started to crack. Force of habit I guess."

Ezra curiously asked, "Just what is it you do?" The American cousin seemed nervous at the question. "Let's just say I'm self employed...well sort of. At least I'm tax exempt for the most part which is more than I can say for him! Look me and him don't get along too well these days but if you're really feeling nostalgic we can always go and visit him once you get settled in. He lives over in Tesla. Much quieter than Southie."

Ezra was curious, "So I'm going to need a way to make living in America. It's a very capitalist country, no?"

Archie promised, "Well I've got a business associate I want you to meet. I worked with him a while. If you've been in the service we could use a man with your talents. We've gotta look out for each other most importantly, okay?"

As he drove he got a look at the interesting old city. They drove through several neighborhoods. He saw an African American area, an Asian community, a Puerto Rican community and now as he arrived at the apartment in South Waston, they were in a working class Irish community. The streets were busy cars honking, women walking dogs and off to work, men talking on cell phones, kids running down the street with basketballs and footballs.

"This is it, Ezzy. Home. It aint much but it's better than sleeping outside. What's mine is yours. Mi casa es su casa," Ezra looked at his relative in confusion, "What was that?" Archie laughed. "Nothing. Shit you have been away a long time!"

They headed upstairs past a vagrant asleep in the hall way clearly passed out drunk. He unlocked a door two doors down. "Voila. Home sweet home. It's not much but I've gotten some pretty ladies to come in with me so that's gotta count for something right? Listen, it aint much but for now you can have the couch it's got a pull out bed."

Ezra looked around. "Well it is humble but that's okay. It's good to see you again cousin. Good to be home. Or at least home as far as close to the family goes."

Archie nodded setting the beer can down. "We've gotta get you a Fleesa and a green card man but for now let's settle for getting you a haircut a shave and some new clothes. Looking like that, you could end up on a watch list, bro. Trust me."

Ezra nodded, "Sure thing. but can we do that later? For now I'm very tired it's been a long trip."

Archie said politely, "Of course! There's beer and some leftover pizza in the and juice too. Got cable and porn on the TV. I gotta run some errands there's a few things you'll need to get by in America, dude. For now, you just get some sleep, that pull out bed is more comfortable than you'd think. I'll be back in a couple hours then we can discuss what the next move is to get you settled. Welcome back to America, Ezzy."

Before long his cousin was out the door. Ezra laid down on the pull out bed and closed his eyes too tired to even disrobe. He hoped things would be different here than they had overseas but there was still a lot of unanswered questions as to his cousins line of work. He also wondered about this kind of neighborhood since all though most seemed to be decent hard working law abiding citizens he'd seen some suspicious less than reputable characters on the corner too. _What have you been doing these last twenty one years, Archie?_

* * *

_It's been a while since I started a new fic i just realized of all the GTA stories I'm co writing I only have one that's actually on my account. Anyway a lot of my oc's have had cholo backgrounds so I decided to have an OC/protagonist more different from what I'm used to or knowledgeable about. Waston is based on Boston Massachusetts all though I'm not sure if I should come up with a fictional state name, like Rock Star did for San Andreas, Liberty State, and Alderney based on California, NY and New Jersey, or just use the original state name like they did with Vice City, Florida? You're the reviewer what do you think I should do?_

_South Waston based on South Boston, Tesla, is based on Newton Massachusetts which is west of downtown Boston._

_So Ezra is based on Oded Fehr particularly his appearance in the Mummy movies as well as Deuce Bigalow Male Giggalo the first one. They also share the same place of birth, Tel Aviv. Archie is based on Adam Sandler's character of the same name in the movie Bulletproof as well as physical appearance. His brother Gideon who was mentioned will be in later chapters he'll be visually based on Adam Goldberg._

_In any case this wasn't very action packed but it will be later. Just like my GTA Story Ballad Of A Cholo takes inspiration from cholo flicks like American Me and Blood In Blood Out as well as San Andreas did from Menace II Society and Juice, so will this take inspiration from crime movies set in Boston such as The Town, and The Departed. Maybe a touch of Boondock Saints as well._

_In any case hope I get you interested. Later._


	2. Trouble Brewing

_The Great Melting Pot_

Ezra read a note from Archie. **Dear cuz. I'm off handling some business. These bills don't pay themselves. In the meantime I left some spending dough on the coffee table out in the front room. Go and get yourself some new clothes. Can't get pussy in this country wearing the same thing over and over. Drop by the sub urban over on Eckstein Boulevard. Also since we live above the bar and I'm pals with the owner drinks are on the house.**

Ezra headed downstairs and eyed the green clover on the wall. It was light on how many people were there but it was still young. He found a stool to sit down at but he didn't feel like alcohol. The majority of the patrons in the bar were Irish. Maybe 90%. The other 10% he was part of but everybody else was from there. He suspected many of them were criminals. He had an uncle, Jack who was not a father at all that was also Archie and Gideon's uncle. He was only the half brother of Ezra's father and his Aunt Enid who was the mother of Gideon and Archie.

He was in fact Jewish and Irish and had been an Irish mobster from Purgatory who had been with the McReary family in the late 70's but was also working with the Irish mob in Waston and earned himself one hell of a rap sheet with both the Liberty City Police Department and the Waston Police Department. He had done five years in the Narragansett State Correctional Facility. For second degree murder of a made man in Little Italy a member of the Gambetti Family. The bartender asked him, "What'll it be?" Ezra told him, "ill have a cranberry juice."

There was an Irish American with a shaved head sitting next to him observed, "Ya know, cranberry juice is a natural diuretic. Girls drink it when they're on their period. Are you on your period?" Ezra smiled downing the drink and smashed the glass over the man's head causing his forehead to bleed instantly and he hit him in the face with a hard right hook followed by a left. The guy stumbled over and fell but got up off the floor blood running down his head pulling out a switchblade.

Suddenly another beefy Irishmen got in between them and told the other Irish guy to go get a drink. The man had a graying ponytail and a gray beard and was in his fifties or sixties but could probably still floor many people half his age. Ezra still had his fists up ready to swing on the guy. The man pointed a finger. "No!" For reasons he couldn't explain, the man had an authority to his tone that had made him listen on instinct. The man asked, "Do you know who I am? You know me?"

Ezra shook his head. "I'm the guy who tells you there are guys you can hit and guys who you can't hit. I'm a guy you can't hit. Now that's not a guy you can't hit but that's almost a guy you can't hit. So I'm gonna make a fuckin ruling on this now. You don't fuckin hit him. You understand?" Ezra nodded. "What's your name,kid?" He told him, "Ezra Mizrahi,"

The guy thought about that and then said, I fuckin know you. I know your family "You're Jackie Fitzgerald's nephew and Archie's cousin," Ezra confirmed. "Yes."

The man held up his shot of whiskey and said, "Here's to Jackie. Fuckin Guineas...," He had been killed by the Italians in 1985 by a couple of mafioso. He downed the shot and then asked, "What are you drinking?" Ezra breathed, relaxing. "Cranberry juice..."

The Irishman said, "What is it, your period?" Inside, Ezra kicked himself for walking into that not once but twice. The mobster told the bartender, "Get the man a cranberry," He then approached the bloodied Irish gang member and growled, "Hey fuck head, that's Uncle Jackie's nephew."

The bewildered Irish mobster replied, "Oh," In realization. The beefy guy repeated the man's word, "Oh," He then threw a punch, a left hook in the face followed by a right, and another left to the Adams apple and a right blow to the nose. It all happened so fast it almost looked comical. The man hit the floor, unconscious and would not wake up again for at least two hours.

Ezra went outside surprised to see Archie already waiting for him. He wore a Waston Bone Rangers cap, a brown flannel jacket and black jeans. "Hey, what's up, buddy? You want to go for a ride with me? I got a way you can make a few bucks along the way. You drive."

He tossed him the keys to the Willard and reluctantly, Ezra got in. They began to drive and he asked, "Where are we headed?" Archie instructed, "We're going to East Waston, first. Got some customers I need to see," He put the radio on to 99.9 Pic FM. The song Chinese Democracy by Guns N Roses played. "So you still have not explained just exactly what it is you do, Archie. What do you do for a living?"

Archie smugly replied, "I'm a salesman...yeah. Been working for one of the biggest import export guys in the city for years now. Since High School really."

Ezra eyed his cousin, "Importing and exporting of what?" Archie replied, "All right we're cousins I never hide anything from you, right? It's this shit," He pulled out a bag of cocaine. "Try it. You haven't been gone away so long you don't remember this, right?" Ezra growled, "No. I never snorted cocaine. You must have me confused with somebody else. I don't touch that shit."

Archie shrugged putting a line on the magazine. "More for me then. Like it or not this is the shit I need to move to make a living. You don't have to sell it but there's no much work for an immigrant. I mean not much legit work that is. if you were Mexican I guess you could work for half of minimum wage but see the pesos are much lower than the dollar in currency value so even what they make here they can send back home to their families but...I know you've got nobody back home to send anything to Israel. But you're home now. It may not be the states but you're with family and that's all that matters. This may be illegal, Ezzy but who cares?Maybe if the average joe could make a living and not be up to his ass in debt we would do things the legit way."

Ezra sighed. "This can't be a good idea. Haven't you ever see any Vinewood movie ever? Maybe most of those movies are bullshit but I've never seen a movie with a happy ending for a drug dealer."

Archie cackled as he cracked open a can of Pisswasser, "Nah man that's just entertainment, bud. None of that shit ever happened to me. That bullshit never happens in real life. i'm not gonna lie people have been killed when they step on somebody's toes but i've never seen anything like that around me and I happen to work for the guy who runs this town so it's not like I'm in any danger anyway and if i'm not in danger neither are you. Especially with the martial arts you probably learned in the Mossad, right?"

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Knowing some martial arts and close quarter combat skills does not make me bullet proof and whatever you are thinking of getting me sucked into, I am not looking to take a bullet for it. Who is this man you work for anyway?" Archie replied after a sip of beer, "That would be Frank Malone. Crazy bastard. He's ran this city's underworld with an iron fist since the 70's. He's been at war with the Commission for years and really he's always trying to keep the Cosa Nostra at bay. He doesn't want them running Waston the way they rule Liberty City."

Ezra couldn't believe the audacity. "And you say I have nothing to worry about. This may not be Liberty City but you have to be careful they'll send as many hitmen as it takes until they get him. I've never heard of this Frank Malone but even back home I have heard of the five families. They have territory in Liberty City but other cities too. It's only a matter of time before they win."

His cousin corrected him, "You don't know how this city works. The Five Families might have some clout where they're from and even in other cities but out here Frank is the man. He runs South Waston but he commands respect from every neighborhood. He's even got cops in his pocket. Not just cops that are on the take either. I'm talking cops that are moles in the WPD that work for him. See the pigs always try to infiltrate us but he's got soldiers infiltrating him."

They were arriving in East Waston. "By the way Ez, since you're concerned, I got something for you. Don't ever say I never did anything for you or that I don't look after my own," He handed him a pistol. Ezra checked it. It was a Glock 17 and had eighteen rounds in the magazine. "Find a good place for that. Guns are illegal in this town."

Ezra, frustrated said, "Great, so you give me something illegal? Sorry...I know..thank you Archie but how is this illegal? Don't Americans have the second amendment right?"Archie snickered at his naive cousin. "This is one of the most liberal cities in America, bro. On one hand that's a good thing less harsh prison sentences, no death penalty. But on the other hand that means they try and do away with guns as much as they can. They want guns to be bare minimal what you can carry on the streets. But don't you worry about that shit. Survival comes first. I mean if they let queers get married we should be able to carry right?"

Ezra said, "I thought the politically correct term is homosexual?" Archie laughed as he took a drink of beer. "See? You're already on your way to fitting in around here."

Ezra replied, "Why do you have a gun, Archie? You don't strike me as the type who can ever pull the trigger. Even if you are involved in the drug game."

Archie pulled out his own gun, a .45 and admired it. "Aw this? This shit is just for show, Ez don't worry about it. It's just for show. Keep the dope fiends from trying to take advantage."

They pulled up to a housing project. Most of the residents in East Junction were either Puerto Rican or Mexican. He knocked on the door of one of the apartments. The door was answered by two men both, Puerto Rican. One had cornrows and looked to be of at least partial African descent but was light skinned. He wore a puffy black coat over a red t shirt and had baggy jeans and Hinterlands. The other, had yellowish tan skin curly hair, a goatee and wore baggy jeans a silver jacket a black t shirt and a gold Cuban chain.

"Oye, Archie, don't be coming around here like you run shit here, okay?" Archie chuckled, "The fuck are you talking about, amigo? I'm just bringing you the stuff, Roberto asked for. Whats the problem?" The guy said, "Mira, Roberto, why do you gotta ask these gringos for blow? You know we got connects and i got you, dude!"

Roberto said, "Because whatever this dude is doing works. You know shit is dried up around here, dog. Feds raided all the stashes, mang! They're cracking down on cartels, hitting them up with three lifetimes. Whatever Mr. Malone is doing whatever his secret is, it works. At least till we get back on our feet."

Archie sighed. "You guys got the money or not? Roberto's cool, Alfredo why do you gotta bust my balls? You're getting this shit for ten g's less than it's worth."

Alfredo scowled, "Yeah until Malone sends your ass crawling around here asking for a favor. I know how those mobsters are. How long before he throws your matza ball eating ass under the bus?"

Archie calmly said, "I wouldn't worry about it! And if anything like that does happen believe me you'll be the first one I call!"

The more chill of the barrio boys handed him a black duffel bag and offered his hand which Archie dapped. "See? Now that's better. I'm going to leave your candy in the laundry room. Second dryer by the door. Go get it in two minutes."

With that Archie walked back to the car with the bag of money strapped around him. "Oye, asshole you wanna say that louder I dont think they heard you in the fucking Dominican Reublic, mang!"

Roberto asked him, "¿Por qué tienes que dispararse a la gente?"

**(Why do you have to trip on people?)**

¿Estás loco? Estos idiotas simplemente dijeron que dejaron las cosas en el cuarto de lavado. Usted sabe que hay otras bandas por aquí!" (**Are you crazy? These idiots just said they left the stuff in the laundry room. You know there's other gangs around here!)**

They got back in the car. "What's with this asshole with the cornrows? He seemed to have an attitude problem," Archie snorted. "Don't worry about it. They act like they know everything. If they knew everything they wouldn't live in the fucking ghetto."

They began to head back to South Waston. They were on their way. Archie told him, "Hey would you mind pulling up here at the store and getting us some snacks? I get the fuckin munchies. Big time. Then we'll go meet Mr. Malone."

They stopped at a deli store it wasn't a 24/7 it was just a convenience store .He handed him a twenty and said, "Get me a piece of chicken in there and..i don't know a soda or a juice or somethin to go with. The meat they got there is better than the shit they sell at 24/7."

He walked inside and he noticed two men arguing with the clerk, a man from India., He also noticed a man at a counter eating a cup of noodles. Ezra got two pieces of chicken both breasts and he grabbed two one lieters of Sprunk. The two men were Italian American. One wore black jeans, a brown leather jacket and a gray shirt under the jacket. He stood about five ten but was muscular. The other stood six foot three and wore a black track suit with white striples and he had slicked back greasy black hair. "Listen here, Babu. You gotta give us something. I can't go back there with nothing," Said the smaller guy. "The boss will kick my fuckin ass if I don't bring him back something."

The Indian man, who had a thick accent said, "Why do you keep calling me Babu? It's Singh motherfucker!" The smaller guy ignored his comment and he beckoned to the bigger Italian saying, "You see this big guy he don't want you to have that money he wants to come back there and break your legs. You gotta give us something. We're trying to help you."

"Help me? You don't even know my name!"

"You want me to catch a beating cause of you?"

"What I'm gonna do? I have one customer sitting there."

The bigger thug said, "You knew what you were getting into when you opened a convenience store in an Irish neighborhood. These are very dirty people don't you know that? Sell some potatoes."

The Caucasian man at the counter stood up he had pale skin blonde hair and blue eyes and he wore a gray t shirt and blue jeans. "Hey you fellas come from Prudence?" The taller thug said, "It aint none of ya business where we come from."

The guy said, "What are you selling cannolis?" With that he punched the bigger guy in the throat catching him by surprise and followed up with a shot to the groin with his knee to the smaller gut. He then tackled the other guy and the two wrestled around knocking over chips as they tangled in the candy aisle. The Irishman accidentally punched through the glass of one of the coolers busting his hand to shit. The Italian tried to catch his breath and the other guido got off the ground pulling out a .45. Ezra grabbed his arm breaking it in a twist. The guy cried out in pain. The guy on the ground with the Italian hit the guy in the face and busted his hand hitting him. The Irishman tackled the big Italian again forcing him into one of the coolers shattering the glass.

The gangster on the floor tried to grab his gun but Ezra stomped on his head several times. "What are you doing you are destroying my store!" The Irishman took the wallets of both of those men. Ezra took the man's pistol. "GET OUT OF HERE! WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY EVERYBODY HATES EACH OTHER!"

They got out of there and Ezra realized he forgot to pay but then he wouldn't likely be welcome again anyway. Ezra asked the guy, "You need a ride?" The guy said, "Yeah..."

He got in and Archie asked, "Hey, Willy what'a up buddy?" Ezra said, "There was a little problem we need to get out of here. You, where to?"

The Irishman told him the address and Ezra realized it was that same bar they were living above. "You work with Malone too?" Archie said, "Yeah, man this guy usually does for me what you do driving me around."

As they drove back through South Waston he realized there would probably be problems in the future due to those two men. "Willy Flannigan."

"Willy? Any relation to Jack Flannigan?" The Irish guy nodded. "That's my uncle," Archie told him, "I'm Enid's kid. Who's your dad? I knew you couldn't be Jackie's kid."

"Morris Flannigan. My dad's half brother. I don't remember you. How is it you know uncle Jack?"

"He's my uncle too..."

* * *

_That's all for this chapter people so Willy is based on Leonardo Decaprio's character in The Departed like i said this story is largely based on that movie not entirely but certain characters are. The bar scene and the store scene is from that movie I found both scenes amusing. Frank Malone who has not yet appeared is based on Whitey Bulger who Jack Nickleson was based on in that movie but Johnny Depp is too in the new movie Black Mass. Willy is also a cousin to Ezra and Arcie that they were not aware of. _

_I found the bar scene the most funny because of the irony of having the same thing said to him after he just hit a guy for the same thing and I also found it interesting that instead of just a one hitter quitter the big dude hit him with four just boom boom boom boom. I'm not sure if a one hitter quitter or that four hitter quitter is more realistic in terms of what should be shown in a bar fight during movies. The four hitter was definitely funnier to see i think that would be more realist. I'm also considering three more protagonists should i do that or just have Ezra? Also the guy who was talking shit to Ezra is visually based on Benzino and the calmer Puerto Rican is based on _Vincent Laresca. East Junction is based on East Boston a mostly Mexican and Puerto Rican area.

_I'm not sure what I'll name the black area, Roxbury. And as far as Frank Malone goes he'll be based more on The Departed portrayal of Whitey Bulger instead of Black Mass._

_Anyway hope you enjoyed I'll update when ican._


	3. Blood In The Snow

_Snow Bank_

Ezara had been directed by Archie to go and see that asshole Alfredo in the projects for work. He came to see the Afro Caribbean arguing with an African American girl with yellowish brown skin standing at five foot eight. She wore a pink sweat suit but she was going off. He yelled, "Stop trying to act so fuckin holy! I know all about your menage with the baddest puta!"

"This coming from the biggest coke head in the word that lets his girl fuck him in the ass with a dildo!" He replied, "Why you always mad at bitches if you be eating her pussy, puta?"

She put it back on him, "No lets talk about dicks in your ass! oh I know it's for TV you getting fucked in your ass with a dildo was not on or for TV or was it? You suppose to be the classy one tho &amp; you suppose to be straight! Lose my number wit ya gossiping ass_!"_

She flipped him off and took off. The drug dealer scowled at her. Ezra chuckled. "Having relationship troubles, buddy?" Alfredo sneered, "Man, that bitch aint my woman homie she's a thot nigga. Good for a fuck or two and that's it. Can't turn a ho to a housewife. This bitch just forgot her place that's all. What you doing here?"

"I think I know what you mean. Some men like classic rock while others like metal. Some men like to fuck women in the pussy or occasionally the butt hole, others like to get pegged. Whatever floats your boat, Al."

"Nigga fuck you! I'l wet your shirt up talking to me like that you don't know me! You fuck around and talk to a g nigga around here you get murked with the quickness. And don't be believing shit females say. You could be the nigga with the biggest dick on the block and if she get mad she'll try and have other bitches thinking you aint packing. You new to this country so let me tell you stay the fuck away from bitches like that. Matter of fact, don't even fuck no bitches from the hood they drag you down. I got me a woman from the middle class that like thug niggas. If she aint got her own job and if she aint clearing at least fifty g's a year she aint shit."

"So what am i doing here? My cousin said you needed something and you two work together,"

Look, Archie sent you rihght, just like i got bitches disrespecting me and my business. See there wouldn't be no connects to East Waston and Rockford motherfuckers say it aint no connection and nine times outta ten they be right but there is a connect to the two hoods. Me! I put niggas up on game round here. But they want to disrespect and not pay dues."

"So what is it exactly?" Asked the ex Mossad agent. "I had some guys I came up with I had mu hustle they needed one I gave it to em they used to sling for me but now they act like I aint shit. Well they wouldn't be shit without me! There's three hustlers out round East Waston and then in Rockford. I want you to erither collect what these bitches owe me or clip em."

Ezra sighed. "All right. I will see what i can do. Anything else I should know?" He nodded. "The dudes slinging in East Waston They're slinging in the projects on the corner of Queen Street and Franc Avenue. Over in Condor Hill. The dudes in Rockford most likely chilling at Bill's barbershop. They down on Harding Street. Them niggas out there been holding out on me more though and one of those dudes got a sweet ride. If they don't pay up not only do I want you to off em, you bring me Terell Jackson's car."

"So I am going alone? No backup? No corner boys you can send with me?" The drug dealer scoffed. "Arch said you supposed to be some military dude. If you can handle a bunch of terrorists you can handle a bunch of hood niggas that can't aim and if you can't well that's gonna be his problem not mine. I'll be real with you I don't give a fuck about you and if you went down after killing these punks it wouldn't be shit as a matter of fact it'd be even better cause if you're dead five oh aint coming after me. But if you make it out of there and don't get cauht up i'll make sure you paid."

Ezra sighed. "Fine. I will go and do ask you ask. But if you hold out on me I can promise you that I will be your biggest problem and then I will do to you the same thin you pay me to do to them."

He sent him three texts each showing Puerto Rican men. The next was those from Rockford. There was a dark skinned black man with a medium sized afro and a goatee plus a second black man who was clearly mixed due to his skin which was lighter than Ezra's was, Ezra being olive skinned while this man was almost a tannish light bronze color plus he had bright blue eyes and a goatee which was light brown almost blondish in color.

He got into the piece of shit car and began to drive to the East Waston dealers first. Irish, Russian Jews and then Italians had lived there first but was now mostly people of Central American and South American descent. Most other brown areas outside East Waston were usually Puerto Rican and Dominican A lot of people from El Salvador, Peru and Ecuador came here and El salvadorans were at the top as far as foreign born and even a few Brazilians came. It was close to the airport too. One of the most popular presidents had lived here when it was an Irish area but even then it had brown people as it was one of the few places Mexican Americans could live.

A Puerto Rican man with a flat top wearing a Narrengasset Jingoist jersey and blue jeans whic sagged below his waist was drinkin a beer. "Man, I'm telling you, dog. This year. Garcia's taking us all the way. Finally get to see us win the super bowl again and I'll make mad paper at the books."

A second PR man who was smokin on a lucy replied, "Nah man he aint gonna hold it together my boy. Dude got a wicked temper. He always getting in trouble with policia. A lot of those ball players got foul tempers like you expect them still be on the streets. Why you like that fool so much anyway man? It aint like he's from here he's from Connecticut."

"He's repping my Jingos baby to me that's as real as being homegrown," A third man said, "You know they booked your fuckin hero for murder right?" The other two shook their head. "You're lying. They aint locking Mo up for no 187."

"Esten serio. Moses Garcia arrested two days ago for shooting some motherfucker," He showed him a newspaper buying some from the stand. "See?" The guy took a look at it. "He aint do oit he'll be out in no time they're just fucking with him cause he's got wicked denero."

"Bro, he was banging before. This guy was loco before he had fame now he got it in his head he's above the law. I don't give a fuck how many yards he runs. Power like that money , bitches fast cars, that goes to your head i mean he probably had all thats shit already when he was in the hood but when you making bank like that then you're really getting a big ego."

A guy in the puffy jacket and white t shook his head. "Pinche idiota. His net worth is 8 million how you gonna throw that away? I get he's from a hood too and shit he'd get love if he came down here but that's just penejadas, bro! I mean we all do what we do out here but you throw that kind of paper my way i'm on my best behavior. Shit, I'd love to get it on with a cheerleader."

The guy in the jersey said, "Fo sho. But not one from up here, bro mira, barrio women got sexy accents but they don';t be letting girls from out here be cheerleaders they all come from South Waston and they sound all New England and shit...gimme one of those Crockett Bandit cheerleaders over one from up here any day."

"Bro that's cause they are from New England but not all of them are., "

Ezra approached the three. "Are you three Enrique, Raul and Antonio?" Antonio, the one in the white shirt demanded, "Who the fuck's asking? You a cop? We aint consenting to no search. Not my ride or frisk fool this aint Liberty yall can't do that stop and frisk shit out here i'll sue your ass."

"I am not with Waston PD. I am here cause of Alfredo. He wants you to pay up what you owe," The three Puerto Rican dealers laughed. Raul, the one in the jersey replied, "You working for that maricon? You know that faggot likes it up the ass, right?"

Ezra shrugged. "It's Narranasett. Is liberal state, yes? I could care less. it's legal in this state for them to get married," In reality, back home it was legal too. All though Ezra did not agree with a lot of what his country had done to Palestinian settlements even shit he had participated in that he was not proud of, one thing he had to admit was better about his country than Palestine was that gay marriage was legal and they were accepted. Even though the Torah forbade homosexuality the religion of the land was not so fundamentalist it denied them rights. In Palestine homosexuality was a death sentence. Besides the Torah also did not condone heterosexual anal sex either for that matter.

"Yo we aint all with that shit out here, bro. We respected him before when we thought he was a man even fucking bitches that liked eating bitches was cool he had some fine mamacitas leaving his crib but I aint handing my bank rolls over to some bitch that aint even trying to be the man in the relationship! He put us on but we hustle out here not that joto. He got a problem with it tell him come deal with it himself. Not send one of his boyfriends out here!"

Ezra told him, "I'm really trying to handle thins in a civilized manner. I am trying as hard as I can to resolve things peacefully," The third drug dealer, Enrique lifted open his jacket revealing a .45 in his pants. "If you want funk with us, step on up, puto!" Raul nodded, "That's right. We the ones taking risk out here from the cops and people trying to jack us. We've had people try and run us off the block and we hold it down out here! Not him. Not you."

The other two withdrew pistols too. The one who had just spoken revealed a Colt Python which he cocked the hammer back on and the other withdrew a .380 which he was closer to aiming at Ezra than the one with the magnum was keeping it at waist level. "Get out of our hood, dog while we still let you," Raul warned. Ezra started to leave sayin, "All right. i will tell Alfredo what you said he is not going to be happy."

"You think we give a fuck? Hijo de puta! Tell that little bitch next time come down here himself not to send some outta towner to fight his battles for him!" The three men were vigilant but as he walked further away they relaxed and put their guns away. "That motherfuckers crazy man. Fuck was Fredo thinking?" Asked the dealer with the .380 as Ezra went back to the car.

"Motherfucker must got aids, probably destroyed most of his brain cells you supposed to have at least 1400," Raul said while Antonio replied, "Nah bro that's t cells."

Enrique replied, "Who cares? Alfredo aint a man no matter how you cut it. I looked up to him before i found that shit out. You got me fucked up thinking I'll even work with a dude like that let alone pay taxes to him. Thinks he's Pablo Escobar."

He called Alfredo. "Well? They gonna do the right thing?" Ezra told him, "They defected, man. They don't respect you anymore for some reason. I don't know why. If you give people a start in the drug game and they make money off of it, you did them a favor. If this is how you thank people in this city I am not sure if I should stay."

"Brah that's some bitch shit what they doin don't get it twisted you can get fucked up in the barrio if you wrong a nigga but at the same time you pay your dues and do right by your peeps, you get paid. Don't be letting this shit twist your view of America, homie. It aint even supposed to be like that out here we got honor tolo they just aint following it. These young niggas nowadays, got no love for original ganstas or in my case original hustlers. They got the carrot when they was being good now they get the stick! Deal with them. But if you can help it try and let Antonio live. Just hurt him he never disrespected me that much he just spends too much time around those othr retards and they influence him. So try to just kne cap him or some shit but if you can't help it i understand."

Ezra got a flare gun from the glove comparment.

He hung up and fired at the car of the drug dealers. The flare lit up and sent flames all over it. Enrique screamed, "NOOOOOOOOO fuck no GET THAT BITCH!" A few rounds came his way but luckily he had found his way behind a parked dark red 06' withdrew the M9 he had got on the streets. He came up from cover firing, hitting Raul twice in the chest fro,m a range of about thirty feet. The dealer fell over his revolver discharging."FUCK YOU!" Screamed Antonio as he let six rounds off at Ezra.

Ezra ducked behind the trunk of the car as three shots hit the back window and went straight throuh hitting the windshield. Ezra waited for the youngster to waste his bullets staying low. As he reloaded, while Enrique tried coming around the side, firing trying to blast him out of cover from the right side of the car as he came around into the street, it seemed Antonio had tried that from the left. Ezra came out of cover just as Enrique came around to the trunk firing two shots back there one hitting the trunk the next going a few feet away from it where Ezra had just been. Luckily he was now on the left side of the Buffalo and he fired twlo shots one hitting Antontio in the left shin the next in the left knee cap. He calmly fired again hitting him in the right hand disarming him.

Ezra heard the thug click empty behind him and he turned around to let him have it only to feel a hot round hit him in the left side of the face. He felt blood and realized luckily it had just grazed the side of his head and barely touched him and didn't go in. Still it was too close for comfort. The goon had fired a round and it had been the last one the extra one in the chamber after his clip went dry. Ezra fired hitting him in the side of the neck and the round exited out of the back of the left side of his neck. Raul was still alive and trying to get his gun to shoot Era. Ezra spotted this and fired hitting the drug dealer between the eyes but he did so with one hand, and fired the remaining rounds into the man's face.

Antonio backed up in fear. "Come on, man...please...!"

Ezra aimed at his head telling him, "I still have one in the chamber too. Just like your friend," The drug dealer started praying in Spanish and kissed teh crucifix. "You religious, Antonio? I have read your new testament but I am more of an old testament kind of guy."

"Forivness...cmon bro...even if you don't believe in it...Alfredo wouldn't want you to do me like that! he would give me another chance!" The kid looked to be no older than twenty. Maybe even eighteen or nineteen. "Well the new testament also says he who lives by the sword dies by the sword..."

Antonio begged, "Por favor...!" Ezra pulled the trigger.

A few minutes later he was back in the car on his way to Rockford unsure if he had made the right choice based on what he had done and based on what Alfredo had suggested. He crossed the bridge and was soon in Rockford. It was a predominantly African American area and had been the heart of their community since the 1940's. One of the most famous civil rights leaders had been a pimp on these very streets. It was about 56% black now after gentrification in some areas but still was a majority black area with a large amount of the population having come from the south during World War II all though there had always been a historical presence too ever since the Revolutionary War and probably before.

He called up Alfredo. "Did you get it done?" He told him, "I did what I had to do. The details are of no concern to you. I'm on my way to the barbershop I'm maybe two minutes away. I'll be honest...no disrespect Alfredo...they said it had to do with the rumors about you...you know...those untrue things said earlier by that girl."

"Shit! That bitch got a loud mouth! I might just have to throw a few g notes your way to deal with her too! I swear man, that skeezer got a attitude problem, brah. Loose lips sink ships and I aint going down like the Titanic feel me?"

"Yes I know because only two hundred men went down on the Titanic..."

"What you say?" Ezra chuckled. "Nothing. So what about these guys in Rockford?" The drug dealer replied, "Shit, if Enrique, Antonio and Raul didn't show me or you any respect these motherfuckers in there aint finna do right either. They janky as fuck. Keep an eye out for a gold Phoenix aight? Shit is wicked clean and I aint sure if I'm gonna wanna take the motherfucker to a chop shop or just keep her for myself."

"Okay. I think I am here. I will talk to you later," He got out of the car and walked into the barbershop. He saw the two men he was supposed to take out. A dark skinned African American male had just gotten a haircut and was now getting a shave. Ezra burst up to them grabbing the razor from the barber shoving him back. "Whoa what the fu..." He put the blade to the man's throat and dragged it across slitting it and blood poured out of him all over the man's clothes and the cloth covering him the blood mixing with shaving cream. "No charge pal! Is on the house!" He screamed.

One of the men, a lihter skinned black man wearing a camouflage outfit and hinterland boots rose up out of his barber chair firing a pistol as he got up. He hit Ezra in the shoulder and he fell against the shelf but luckily he was able to get a shot off hitting the man in the waist where the button of his pants were. Luckily Ezra's right shoulder wound had been a through and through. The wounded thug made it to the bathroom firing three shots wildly hitting the mirror. One of the barbers, an older African American man had taken a round in the back from the exchange and Ezra could tell that it had been an accidental slug from the opposition. The goon came out shooting firing from inside the bathroom, his pistol blindly firing.

Ezra stayed low grabbing a can of shaving cream and he lobbbed it at the door. He fired and it exploded in a blast of fire the man soon engulfed in flames screaming like a banshee. Ezra went into the bathroom seeing the flames eat away at the flesh on the man's face. "Stop drop and roll! Did they not teach you this?!" The man kicked the toilet seat up and stuck his face in the toilet and tried to stick more of his body into the toilet water but Ezra flushed it so all though he put some of it out on his face and chest parts of the flames were still on him.

It didn't matter though. He started slamming the toilet seat down on his head. The man cried out. Ezra slammed down three times...then four. "S...st..stop...!" The man managed to blurt out. Due to the skin the man had already lost from the fire his face had become sensitive the flesh looser and it made a sickening squishing sound as he brought it down on him again and again. "Sorry friend but a piece of crap always belongs in the toilet..."

He let the seat fall on the dead man's head saying, "And gentlemen always leave seat down," With that, he left the shop but not before knocking over hair gels, and various other shit in the bottles and he fired causing them to go ablaze. He fished the keys out of the pocket of Terell Jackon's pocket the man he set on fire. He went out and started the car and was soon driving away from the burning shop deciding it would probably be a good idea to get the car resprayed before taking it back to Alfredo.

He put the radio on and the song Give It Away by Red Hot Chilli Peppers played.

* * *

_That's it for this chapter I meant to make it longer but I have other stuff I gotta do i will probably be introducing some new protagonists next chapter. Humancyrax was against more than one, and zilla was for it. Also next chapter Ezra will finally meet face to face with Frank Malone (Whitey Bulger) via Archie._

_So now down to inspirations. B Real is who Enrique was based in, Raul is based on __Joel Ortiz and Rick Gonzales is Antonio. s for Antonio's fate I leave it up to the viewers by vote and I have done this with stories before but I will try and do it this way different basically whatever you decide, I'll show what happened by having Ezra dream about it during his sleeping which we can count as his "Save time" when nothing else is going on so I'd be showing you his dreams in what happened during that time and i plan on doing this with all my characters whenever I reach an optional murderer that you decide the outcome of._

_Dont slep on my other stories Ballad Of A Cholo, and Online (Concrete Jungle) also check out GTA New Arcadia by Zilla 2000 and if you are a Resident Evil fan check his story Cry Havoc out or mine, The War Ends Now and A World Without Fear. It seems like mst people are either Resident Evil or GTA fans seldom are they both so the inner circle of people attached to my stories, we are the few but i like to think also proud lol. As for shaving cream and other shit you find in barbershops they are extremely flamable._

_Condor Hill is based on the East Boston neighborhood Eagle Hill. Rockford is based on Roxbury._

_As for Alfredo as i stated in the past he is based on the Benzino and this chapter with reference to him getting fucked up the ass byu a strap on that exchange is based on a twitter beef he had with Mimi Faust because when he talked about her eating Joseline Hernandez on twitter she responded with what she heard about him and apparently it's true he's into that shit. I know that Zilla doesn't really like the Benzino and I told you i was gonna reveal something funny in this as part of the story and that was it not sure if you heard of it before or not._

_Also Moses Garcia is a parody of Aaron Hernandez and the Narragansett Jingoists are a parody of the New England Patriots._

_Anyway, hope you all enjoyed._


	4. The Chosen Meet The Heathens

Ezra

Gone Clubbin'

He had been summoned to meet Frank Malone. The meeting had been delayed by the fight with the Italian mafiosos in the store. "So let me get this straight, Archie. You're telling me this guy is Uncle Jack's kid?" Archie, who wore a white and brown plaid shirt and a Waston Badgers baseball cap. Ezra wore a black leather jacket, a gray t shirt and blue stone washed jeans. "That guy at the store with the Italians?"

"Yeah, man. I always thought Uncle Jack never settled down but I guess he did. He had a secret family. I got no fuckin idea how he kept this from grandma, ma, dad, me or Gideon. You were at least in the holy land so that's another story."

"It's not so holy anymore, Achi. I'm not sure it ever was. It's just been people killing each other. When it's not over God it's over politics and land and money."

"Yeah but that's the fuckin motherland, Arch. I mean hell America's always been violent Russia, South Africa, so why is Israel any different?"

"Because at least half the world considers it the holiest place on Earth. God's country. But i've lived there longer than I've lived in the states and it's just like anywhere else. Except we're in a civil war that seems like it'll never end."

"Ah man Gideon would fuckin shit his pussy hearing you talk like that. Maybe he should have been the one to go. He still observes. Still can't get the guy to try a BLT, can't talk to the bastard on the phone on saturdays, and he's always at temple. When you think about it, he's kind of a relic. Most of us don't believe anymore. Kind of like you I imagine. Except I still hope there's a heaven."

"I've been on the brink of death. I'm not saying I believe in hell," They were obviously not raised to believe in it but all the same hed felt like a man who was on his way there. "I don't know what you would call it. Maybe not hell...not even Sheol. It was just a sense that everything was not going to be all right. Like everything was fucked."

"Jesus Christ, buddy when did this happen?" Ezra recalled it clear as if it was yesterday. "June 12th, 2000. Before this country lost Media Towers we were having our own ground zeroes every day. Some asshole hit our squad with an RPG. Send me flying twenty feet with shrapnel in my chest. i don't know how I survived. They got what they could out but there are still pieces of it inside me. "

"Well it sounds pretty screwed up dude but I still wanna go out there some day. it would have made ma happy that I go. Besides have you seen some of those supermodels over there?! They're fucking hot. Dead sea or not they should always act like it's just a day at the beach. A nude beach."

"So what's the deal with this Willie guy?" Archie told him, "Well...you've been helping me out on my runs over in the projects right well he's family too. I mean that's the weird thing this guy I've seen him before only I didnt know who he was at the time. Back when we were kids there was some birthday parties and family gatherings I didn't remember. This guy really has nothing to gain by claiming to be blood and not being it. I'm just making ends meet and Gideon's a working stiff."

"When can we go see him? I been in town too long to not go see him."

"We can go see the square after we see the boss. Maybe we'll go have a drink. Thank fuck there's no commandment against that or that fag would use that as an excuse not to drink. Jesus..."

They pulled up to a bar on the South side of town. As they went to the back of the bar, bnoth men were patted down and they found Ezra's weapons. The Irish American bodyguard told him, "You'll get this back when you leave. Nobody else carries around Mr. Malone but us."

They walked in to see an old Caucasian man wearing a beret with gray hair that was a receeding line plus a graying beard and suinglasses. The man wore a black sweater, gray pants and a gold crucifix. "Franie's how's it going?"

"Can't complain, Arch. Been a while since I've seen ya in here. How's business treating you?"

"It's fucking awesome. These junkies out there are wrapped around our fingers."

"Well just s long as you remember to keep your clients a long way away from this place, everything will be copacetic. And who's this? Friend of yours?"

"This is my cousin, Archie Mizrahi. From Israel. Ezzy this is Frank Malone. Mr. Malone runs this town."

The older man offered his hand. He shook it and then asked the younger Jewish American, "They pat him down?"

"I already was at the door," Ezra stated. "Well that was at the door. Now we're here. I don't know you. And Nicky could have missed a spot. We're gonna search you make sure you aint wearing a wire."

"Hey, I told ya, Mr. Malone he's cool he..."

"Was I speaking to you?" The Irish gang leader asked. "Noi but..."

"If it's a problem, walk away. If not, it'll be quick and painless."

He let another Irish goon wave a wand and lift s shirt up and then he put the wand to his legs. "So why don't you do this to Archie too?" Asked the ex Mosssad agent. "Him I trust. You? I don't know so I don';t trust. All right you're good. Now we've established that you're not a cop. Maybe you can earn my trust over time. Archie told me you did a job or two here and there with Alfredo. Well he can't do half of what I can for ya."

"Did you have anything in mind?" The Irishman stayted, "Have a drink. What can we getcha?" Ezra looked at a man who's job was to get booze. "I'll just have a Sprunk,"

"Bullshit, This is my bar. You in a bar you order a drink unless that Sprunk is a chaser."

"Okay...a scotch then."

"Attaboy..."

The Irish American was also smoking a Cuban cigar. "Your cousin is not wrong about my status in this town. Only problem is there's people out there who don't agree with that. Like the mob in the North End.l They been a pain in my big hairy ass since the 70's. Feds have taken a lot of them down but unfortunately, a lot of them didn't get the message that we don't want them around. So they think they're gonna play cowboy with me in my own city."

"See...the mob up here are like the under dogs," Archie said. "They think they run shit but they haven't in a while. It's like the city's swapped in power with Waston vs Liberty."

"That's right," Frank said as he blew smoke. "In Liberty, guys like the McReary boys are holding their own and I have respect for them for that. They may have wotrked with the Commission before but lately they're telling em all to fuck themselves. Even if the unholy Five got more muscle on the streets. Out here, I'm the big man in town. Now if I was in Liberty I'd be trying to help the underdogs be in charge. I'd rather have the McReary's be running LC the way they used to in the 80's. Then Waston and LC could be a powerhouse. But instead, the Five have LC and I have this city."

"So what is the problem? One for you, one for them. You are the big man and the mafia are dying out."

"The problem is, Ii do run this city and if they ran LC, and the Commission became the underdog instead of McReary's, it'd be the same story who I'd side with. Blood is thicker than water. But whether we're the winning home team or losing home team, opposition is oppposition. The North side mob may be insignificant these days but theyre still a pain in my ass. They've taken it upon themselves to be as annoying as possible. They think by fucking with me and takingt nme down they'll restore their old glory."

"So you want me to go send a nmessage to the Italians?" The Irisman shook his head. "Not today. Today, we'll have a trial run. You're going to help with a different problem of mine. Some business associates we do business with. A brotherhood on wheels. They move state to state moving product. Even bring me a taste of pure shit down from Canada when they go up there. But they got enemies. You ever heard of the Heathen MC?"

"I can't say I have," The Isreali gunmen admitted. "I have heard of the Lost MC and Angels Of Death."

"Well those aren't names you want to mention to Heathens hate em both. They want the east coast all to themselves."

"Sounds like a nice bunch of guys."

"Well I'd rather deal with them than the Angels any day of the week and the Lost well they're just untrustworthy. You could be their friend one day and their enemy the next day. Who the fuck wants to be around people like that? No..youre going to go pick up a friend of mine. Warren Burke. He's a Seargeant At Arms for the Heathens. He had a favor he wanted to ask me to handle because he thought I could take care of it with more discretion but instead youre going to go handle it."

Ezra nodded. "Okay then."

He left the bar and Archie followed. "He'll be at a bar over off John Adams Avenue in South Waston. Bars called Chester's."

They got into the car and began to drive out there. They put the radio station to 99.9 Pick FM. The song Mr. Brownstone by Guns N Roses blasted as they drove. "You know anything about these guys? The Heathens Motorcycle Club?" His cousin admitted. "Yeah. I don't know anyone in Waston who hasn't. Some of the guys can be anti Semetic pricks just like the Angels/. Ties with the Aryan Vanguard in prison and all but some are all right enoug guys."

"Really? They better not give me any shit. Im here to work but if Mr. Malone or his associates have a problem I will find employment elsewhere."

"It's not a problem. These guys are cool. The one we're on our way to go get. Warren's a drinking buddy of mine. We tie one off every now and then when he aint with his club and can make friends with his outsider friends. I guess at this point I'm a hang around," He said jokingly. "That's not funny."

"All right, well you know, hes cool. His brother can be a little unhinged. Definitly don't want to end upon his bad side but his brother is all right too."

"So this Frank Malone what is his deal anyway? How does an old man like that run a city like this? Then again, i probably dont want to know."

"Hey come on, you telling me you haven't seen gangsters like that back in Israel running things? I know there's mafia types out there too.

"Sure but a lot of those men, I knew personally and they're having to fight both in the homeland and in this country for power. This guyt it seems has the whole city by the balls. And besides the men I know from back home may be ruthless but none of them live long. The ones who aren't dead yet aren't far from it."

"What family are you talking about? You talking about some of those Russian crews that go to Liberty City? Cause I know some of them are tied to Israel as much as Moscow."

"Have you ever heard of the Abehsera crime family?" Archie shook his head. "Nah, what are they Five Families or muscle for them?"

"Worse. They're a crime family from Tel Aviv but they are also based in Los Santos. I can only hope they never come here."

"Shit, they can't be that bad. Nobody is bad as Frankie Malone, Ezzy. Trust me on that, buddy. He's a good guy to have in your corner but you do not want him as an enemy. The guy's ruthless."

They arrived at the bar and pulled up and they saw a tall biker with dark brown hair a beard standing at six foot six waiting outside smoking a cigarette. He wore blue jeans and a black leather jacket. On the logo was an image of a Viking warrior carrying a sword while a larger Thor was watching over him with a hammer. Archie got out and let the biker sit up front since he was taller. "Hey Arch. How's it hanging, bud? Who's this?"

"Just getting by, Burke. This is my cousin Ezra, from Tel Aviv. Fresh off the boat but you didn't ear that from me."

"Nice to meet ya. We're headed over to Club 7 over on East Gate avenue."

Archie told him, "That's out in Elliot. "

"So Ezra, you a military man?"

"Yeah you could say that. But that was a long time ago. I'm not anymore."

"Hell, boy once a soldier, always a soldier. In my book."

"Well it's not so in my book. I've had enough with war. I just want to make a living in peace but so far this city hasn't shown that. You know, I was born in America but I've forgotten a lot about it. I remember Tel Aviv more. I would have thought the American Athens would be a lot more safe but it doesn't seem like it. So far i've had a few guys try and kill me."

"If you're working for the Irish underworld in this town, you aint a man looking for peace. I don't know what you're here looking for amigo but if it's peace you aint gonna find it working for Malone. Then again, if Archie's really your cousin and you want to make money in peace I'd also say you're with the wrong Mizrahi brother."

"Well I plkan on visiting him when this is over. It's not like I'm trying to keep this line of work indefinatlyt. It's just a way to pay the bills. Is not so easy to find work for us illegals. I was a citizen in the past but for reason I can't get into, I don't have it anymore. Or a passport. "

"Jesus. And I thought the brotherhood had problems. Anyway, Waston aint so bad if you know the right and people and who to trust and who not to. And the pigs aint as bad as Liberty or Carcer either. Hasn't been an unarmed shooting in this city in over a decade. Doesn't do guys like me any good though. Even if they can manage to not gun down a kid with a laser gun they'll still come after a grumpy old bastard like me."

"Yes well you are a gang member, yes? That is their job. Just like it is their job to come after foreigners like me who come here illegally. Even if i used to be a citien. So I guess I'm not the sneak across the border type of illegal. More like overstay visa immigrant."

"I aint no gang member. I'm just a patriotic veteran of a the United States Army and a motorcycle enthusiast. I don't associate with the criminal element," This got a laugh out of Archie and a smirk out of Ezra. They pulled up to the club. They went inside to hear loud metal music blasting. "What are we doing in here?" The band Suicidal Tendencies was live playing You Can't Bring Me Down. They stopped by the bar and Burke ordered three whiskey's. Ezra told him, "i'm not in a drinking mood."

The biker glared. "Tough shit. The drink's already paid for. You don't waste liqour," Ezra, annoyed downed the shot. The biker then eyed the bartender, a mullatto male with eyebrow piercings wearing a black t shirt black jeans and a spiked belt plus a chain. "Nick, you seen my brother?"

"Yeah, saw him go into the bathroom with one of those BSU dudes. He looked pretty heated.

The biker told the two Jews, "All right boys. Let's go get him before he gets himself arrested.

Meanwhile in the men's room, a blonde haired white man with a mullet and blue eyes wearing a grayish blue denim vest and blue jeans was confronting a man who had his hair dyed green and wore a Tony Hawk t shirt and black jeans. "Your time is up, Kyle. I want my fucking money. I aint a goddamn charity."

"I told you I need a few more days. I said I'd pay you back when I can. Do you know what that means? As soon as I can. I can't fucking pay you back BEFORE I can, now can I?"

The Waston biker gang member snarled, "You being fucking cute with me? I already heard from my guy, Sid you've been copping blow off the Dominicans in East Waston. You got money for them but not your debt? Or are you weasiling them out too? Don't you think your brothers wlould kick you out if they knew you were a junkie?"

"Fuck you. We're not like you Heathen douches. We don't just throw a brother out the second he beco,mes inconvient to us. You're on BSU turf. I didn't want to take it there but you gave me no choice. If you..." The blonde outlaw biker socked him in the face sending him against the stall. The BSU member came back after hitting his head. He charged into the biker and started thjrowing punches at his abdomen but the biker grappled him. "You fucking little shit!" Screamed the blonde biker. he head butted the man and kicked him in the ground. He pushed him through the stall door and the man hit his head on the toilet.

He grabed the punk rocker and slammed the toilet seat down on his face. "LET ME GO...YOU BITCH!" Yelled the junkie as the biker slammed hoim down. "no can do, pal! My ma always told me to put the toilet sound down," The guy cried out in pain as he slammed his head. He then dunked his bloody face in te toilet. Ezra and Warren pulled the blonde biker off. "Jimmy, get the fuck off him you're gonna kill the bastard!"

The blonde biker sneered. "I fucking shit. Teach this little cocksucker a lesson in respect and paying your dues. You know not paying your dues is wy this country is fucked up. Why do you think China owes us? We borrow from them and we can't pay em back! A man who can't repay his debts aint a man...wo's the Arab?" He asked. Ezra told him, "I'm Israeli. Ezra Mizrahi. Arcie is my cousin."

"Archie? That guy's funny bro," Warren growled, "Yea he's a riot. Now why don't we get outta here before the cops get called?"

They left the bathroom and statrted to head outside. "Nice music," Observed Ezra. "Hey you'd fit rigt in with the Heathens Brotherhood. Or one of these BSU assholes."

"BSU?" Asked the Isreali hitman. "Broters Stand United. They call themselves a family but theyt're a gang like anybody else. They pretend they aren't cause they don't sell drugs but come on, dude. Who takes that seriously?" Asked Jimmy.

Warren agreed. "The BSU love a fight. They always get into it with skinheads out here but in reality, they aint so tough when it's not ten on one."

Archie spotted several men dressed in black clad cloting headed at them. "Speak of the fuckin devil..." They rushed the men one of the FSU members swinging on Archie hitting him in the face and knocking his hat off. Three more swarmed him and Ezra grabbed one of them and twisted his arm in a twist breaking it. "AHHH! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Yelled the BSU member, a blonde with Sliptknot t shirt and black jeans yelled. His friend, a man with sandy colored hair and a goatee wearing a black t shirt with red overalls, rushed him throwing a punch at him. He caught the blow and the guy threw his other hand hitting him in the chin.

Ezra drove his knee into his groin. He drove his knee into the man's ribs and then followed up with an elbow to the back as he fell over. Warren was duking it out with four BSU members at once. "Cone on you fucking adolecent pussies! Is that all you got?!" Cried the large biker. James got into it with two BSU members and as they bombarded him with punches, he hit one with an uppercut sending him back. Another grabbed im in a full nelson trying to coke im out. "Mosh pit!" Yelled a clu patron and others started fighting too taking the mosh shit way too far.

Five BSU members rushed Ezra tackling him to the ground. They hit him with punches and kicks to the head. He took several blows feeling pain but he followed up kicking one man's left knee in and the man fe;ll over howling and Ezra saw an opening. He came up swinging and knocked them back like a tornado made of fists. A BSU me,mber with bloody teeth yelled, "Fuck you, douchebags! Nobody messes with our friends!" He swung a beer bottle at Ezra. Ezra guarded it wit his right shoulder and it hit it hard and the bottle shattered though he couldn't tell if it was from hitting his shoulder or falling as it all happened so fast and two men rushed him again. Despite knowing Krav Maga it wasn't like Vinewood movies. Bad guys didn't just wait and go one at a time.

He gave one of them a kick to the solar plexus sending him back and the one who hit him with the bottle he hit wit a gouche to the left eye. The man cried out stumbling back. A BSU member wit dark blue hair had on a pair of brass knuckles and he swing at Ezra. Ezra dodged it but two more rushed at him, one a dark haired white guy standing at five foot eight with pimply skin and oily hair. He took a handful of glass and threw it in his face. He fell over with blood seeping between his fingers as Ezra dropped him.

He took another piece and stabbed a BSU member who was kicking Archie. The guy cried out as pierced the man's liver. Warren and James had taken some blows but Warren managed to grab one of the BSU members and trow him at the others. "Let's go, boys!" Yelled Jimmy and the four men hauled ass out of the club. "Archie are you okay?"

"Yeah..I was gonna kick their asses you didn't have to step in."

"Of course you were. But the fight is over. It's time to go."

They made it outside and ran to the car. "Fucking hell, Archie where did you get this guy?" Asked James. "Straight out of the IDF, baby! Ahahahah!" Yelled the Jewish American. They got into the car but as Archie opened the door a bullet shattered the driver window. A round grazed him in the right shoulder and he looked to see one of the men firing a Handgun at him, it looked like a Beretta. Archie got into cover withdrawing his .50 Magnum. The punk rocker had a busted up nose. He was aiming at both Warren and James. Both men had their pistols drawn and they returned fire, Warren letting off five shots from his Walther P99 while James fired a Sig Sauer hitting him with three rounds in the neck. The punk rocker dropped dead coughing up blood and he was struggling for air as one round had hit him in the throat while the other two hit him in the side of the neck.

Ezra walked up to him and aimed the .50 at his face. He took the firearm from the man. "Ze she-li, ben-zon**a,"**

(That's mine, son of a bitch.)

The man stared up at the Isreali hitman unable to speak. Ezra looked down at him. _Shit...hes just a kid...just like back home..._

He could see he was suffering. "Come on, dude get in the fucking car before the cops show! I'm not supposed to be carrying! I'm on probation!" Yelled James. Ezra at this point knew the man was fucked but this was to ease his suffering. It would not be pretty and it would not be an open casket. Who needed an open casket anyway? There was no point. It served no purpose. Why gawk at a dead body that no longer represented the person who had once been inside it? He then opened his eyes widely with a gasp as he looked down at the body and recognized him. The man was no longer a Wastonian punk rocker but he was a young Palestinian man about the same age. "Adawi...?" He said. He looked abround. The scenery of Waston, Narragansett vanished and now he saw they were in the Gaza strip. The man opened his mouth but could not talk.

"What...?" He asked the man. His face kept flashing to and from the BSU member. It was like an optical illusion. The BSU member could not speak and he was near death. He looked again and this time saw the white hand turn brown and the concrete turn to sand. He held some kind of detonator in his hand. "Allahu Ackbar!" He yelled. Ezra screa,med, "NO!" He fired two shots into the face of the man. The first round tored into his forehead, not an ideal place to shoot somebody with a weaker handgun but with a .50 there was no surviving that. The skull was split in half and a second obliterated the skull.

Ezra looked back at him and saw that his face did not represent a face anymore. It was red mush. Archie grabbed him saying, "What the fuck is the mattah with you? Get in the fucking cah!" He snapped back to reality getting in and they began to take off down the street. They were being pursued by Waston PD as three police cars chased them up the street. _"Suspect is headed south on Novac drive, in a red Cognesetti., Two suspects are Caucasian two suspects possibly Caucasian or Hispanic. Considered armed and dangerous," _The APD went out.

Ezra fired the Beretta he had taken off the dead BSU member out of the window. Warren and James fired out the window at the cops. "Fuck you ya fucking townie cocksuckers!" Screamed Warren as he let round after round out at the two officers behind them. The first hit a Caucasian male, an Irish American who was the passenger with red hair and blue eyes. He hit him with five rounds in the chest and two in the shoulder going into his klavicle artery. Jimmy let six rounds off and hit the man's partner, an Iranian American with a shot to the chin. The squad car crashed. "_Shots fired shots fired officer down! Suspect headed west on John Adams Boulevard. Proceed with caution!"_

Ezra pulled them down an alley and the cops whirled by. "Oh shit they're turning around!" Yelled Jimmy. "I'm a goddamn sitting duck back here!" Yelled Warren and it was obvious he was as he was the largest man in the vehicle.

The two bikers unloaded rounds on the cops as they tried to come down the alley but Warren had to reload and soon after Jimmy did too. Ezra got out however, telling Archie, "You're driving! If you're not shooting you drive. You don't get to ride shotgun if you're not holding one!"

Archie got to the drivers seat saying, "You don't got a fuckin shotty!" An African American cop fired down the alley at them from cover but as he came out Ezra fired hitting him in the left arm. The powerful round hit his left arm and Ezra saw bone as the cop fell over crying in pain. "You wanna fuck with me?!" He yelled as he got into the driver seat.

Archie took off heading to the other side of the alley. Just as he was coming out, a Mexican American officer was coming around the side with his weapon drawn but the car hit him and sent him flying into the street. Archie cried out, "Oh fucking shit! I hit that guy! We are so fucked!" Ezra told him, "Calm down! He's probably just fucked up."

"I can't go to prison, Ezzy! You know what they do to murders in this state?!" Ezra replied, "This isn't New Austin. Even San Andreas is more likely to give you a needle for this than this state. You'd just get life without parole."

"Exactly! That's worse than death! You think I want to be getting fucked up the ass until I'm old and gray?"

"Hey, it'll get easier when you're older, Arch," Jimmy said with a grin. "At least when you get piped until you have a rectal prelapse you'll be wearing a diaper already!"

Archie screamed, "You two are assholes! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I aint in a gang I wouldn't last five minutes!" Ezra told him, "Just keep your eyes on the road. Or you'll find out not only what it's like to wear diapers again and need them but what lifers use for lube when they don't have Vaseline. It never runs out either. It's the gift that keeps on giving."

This got a laugh out of the two bikers. They whipped down Nathan Hale Avenue as they sped through South Waston. Ezra fired out the window hitting the tire of the nearest cop car on the right front side. He also hit the passenger, an Italian American in the nose with a round and watched it erupt in a blast of dark red fluid all over the windshield.

They began to drive out towards Rockford not sure where to go sped through the African American neighborhood trying to take back alleys even as the cops gave chase. Ezra reloaded and as he did, Warren and Jimmy fired out the window. "I didn't think those BSU guys would be packing!"

"Yeah they do! Some of them, anyway. They were founded by some fucking asshole named Scott Parker. Some punk rocker who's real parents didn't love him so he got adopted by a buncha fucking hippies growing mary on a farm. Little prick turned into a vegetarian too but then he started some punk rock gang. At first it was just about kicking the shit outta skinheads but he got into it with the Lords too."

"Yeah. Fucking straight edge faggots., Can't stand em. They think they can stop some of our boys at the punk scenes from making a profit. They aren't ready to go against American bad asses. They can stomp on skinheads and Spanish Lords all they want. They fuck with the brotherhood though, they get exactly what they give to their enemies. A fucking boot to the face," James snarled.

The ex Mossad agent took a hard right turn and the three more cop cars behind him skidded trying to follow but crashed into an oncoming semi. Warren made a phone call. "Get us to East Waston. i'm gonna call a guy I know can help us out."

"Jorge? Listen, I don't got time to chit chat.I need a favor...yeah...don't you remember? You owe me one. You'll see what it is when we get here."

Archie soon got them in East Waston. Warren told him, "Turn right here bro. These guys can help us lay low," Ezra turned back towards Jimmy. "Please tell me you got something out of that shit back there?"

Jimmy held up a wallet. "Yeah...I got his wallet before I even hit him."

"Then why did you hit him?"

"He's gotta learn not to dick around. I guess those BSU cocksuckers aren't so straight egde after all. In any case I got my mullah so you'll get yours, amigo. Don't worry. His so called brothers are probably gonna fuck him up. Don't ever allow themselves to party."

Warren then asked, "Hey what was with you back there? You froze up for a minute. You said a name back there. What did you say Abdullah? Was he somebody you killed over there in the sand box?"

"It was nothing. Just a little Hebrew prayer I have to say before I kill somebody," He lied. "Don't worry about it."

Archie looked at him with concern indicating that he was going to ask him questions later. They parked out back of a complex. They were in the projects. He looked at the name of the housing projects. They were low rises, a place called the McCain Housing Projects. He spotted a couple of men, Mexican American by the looks of them drinking Cerveza Barrachos and Pisswassers. The first man had slicked back black hairsyle and a gold chain necklace and baggy jeans and wore a white wife beater. He had a tattoo of the Virgin of Guadalupe wearing a green cloak. She had tear drop tattoos that were red as though she herself had killed somebody instead of crying tears of blood for Jesus. On the right forearm he had the letters O.R. in green. He had the numbers 617 under that with the 6 in red the 1 in white and the 7 in green. He also had a white bandanna around his head cholo style with the hair still showing.

His friend wore a Narrangasetts Jingoist jersey and had a crew cut and was darker skinned and had a mustache and goatee. On his left arm he had the tattoo LK for Lord Killer. "Who the fuck are these two, mano?" Demanded the one in the wife beater. He was directing the question at Warren.

"We're here to see El Lupo. Where is he?"

"Lupo! Algunas personas lo vean!"

The back door opened and a bald headed Chicano stepped outside. He wore a red plaid shirt with a gold crucifix and brown khakis. "Warren que tal homes? What you want, ese?"

The biker told him, "This ride is hot. That favor I asked you for."

"So what eh you trying to give me a hot coche? Trying to get me sent back?"

"No. I'm calling in on that favor. Right now the cops are looking for me and my friends or at least guys looking like us. I'm gonna need a ride back to the clubhouse. Same with Jimmy. And these two need a ride back to South Waston. We need a change of clothes and to lay low for a little bit."

"You're asking a big favor, wey."

"Yeah it was a big favor when I bailed your ass outta jail, remember?"

The gang member sighed. "All right. Oye, manito. Deshacerse de este pedazo de mierda,"

(Hey, man. Get rid of that piece of shit)

The two gang members got into the car. "Don't let the cops catch you with that thing either."

He then told the four, "Come on in. You wanna beer?"

Jimmy smirked. "Thought you'd never ask," The Mexican American offered his hand. "I'm Jorge Vegas. Homies call me El Lupo."

"Ezra Mizrahi," He had a nickname that he had been given in the Holy Land but if he told him, he'd have to kill him. He wasn't supposed to be alive. He certainly wasn;t supposed to be back in America.

"Spanish for the wolf?" Asked Archie. The gangster shook his head. "It's Italian. Half Italian on my moms side, bro. But don't worry. I aint no North Enders. You don't gotta worry about the Palermi's knocking at your door. At least not cause of ,me. That's my brother Casper," He beckoned to a lighter skinned Chicano wearing a white t shirt and a gold crucifix. "What's up, homie. Where you from?"

"Tel Aviv."

"Where's that, Saudi Arabia?"

"Israel."

"Orale. Just like Jesus, eh. We'll keep you safe from the authorities. Both Roman and Pharisees. And any of these pigs with shamrocks tatted on their butt cheeks," This got a laugh out of both bikers and Archie. They gave him a beer too even though he didn;t ask for one. To be polite he drank it. He turned to Warren. "How long do we stay here?"

The biker said, "Until I tell yo so. Just hang tight, brother. Lupo's people will be back with some new clothes. He'll stop at Sub Urban on the way back."

Ezra drank the beer suddenly deciding he needed it. El Lupo directed Warren into the other room to discuss some kind of business while Archie and Casper watched a football game. They were playing the Vice City Mamas. A man got tackled and Jimmy cursed. "Fuckin Grady, man! That asshole needs to hang it up if he can't handle the heat," Casper chuckled. "He's gonna stay in it till they kill him, bro. They're paying him millions of dollars old as he is? Shit I'd do that at fifty."

"Hell I'd do it for a quarter mil," Archie admitted. "Nah you'd get creamed, Arch. You're too damn scrawny," Jimmy told him.

Ezra asked, "You mind if I use your bathroom?" Casper nonchulantly told him, "Second door on the right."

As soon as he got in, he threw up. Luckily the game was on so they didn't hear it. As he purged he wasn't sure if it was the beer, something he hadn't had in weeks. Or if it was the memories of the West Gaza. He saw the young Palestinian's face as he threw up. He finally gfinished and was in tears. The cause of the tears too was obvious but he felt terrible and they rolled down his cheeks and while he wasn't sure the tears were for the young man he had killed today or back home, he wasn't sure that at least one of them wasn't for him. He was sure they weren't. He'd had to live with what he'd done for some years now but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

He went out of the bathroom and saw that the news was on. "they're interrupting the game!" Growled Casper. "Pinche cabrones!"

_"A shooting at Club 7 in East Gate resulted in the death of a local club patron, Phillip Jarvis. Jarvis was a known associate of the hardcore punk rock gang, the Brothers Stand United but police say he was also a member of a bilker gang, the Lost Motorcycle Club. Another associate of the BSU, Kyle Anderson, was brutally beaten by four men. Witnesses say at least two of the four men seen beating him were members of the Heathens Motorcycle Gang, a known rival of the Lost. Police exchanged gunfire with the suspects near the corner of Nathan Hale and Dawkins only for the suspects to elude capture."_

The cops then began to describe the men as best as they could with vague details from sketchy witness accounts and the make and model of the car.

Casper took a drink of the beer saying, "Sabes que it's a good thing you gavachos showed up when you did or you'd all be in the slammer."

He then looked over at Ezra. "It looks like you know how to handle yourself in a fight. We could use a cabron like you. Lupo helped Warren out cause he owed him but he didn't owe you. But we're family men. We won't ask for a favor for Jimmy too. But you and your brother? That's something else."

"He aint my brother. He';s my cousin. And Archie isn'tgood in a fight."

"Ok well like I said we're family men. We can make it two for one. Maybe you can do a little work for us in the future. You'll be paid for it. That's what you're looking for right? Isn't everybody?"

Ezra looked at the Mexican with suspicion but said, "All right. Give me your number."

* * *

_Abehsera family is based on the abergil family. Lets just say Ezra has worked with them before but is not happy about it._

_The neighborhood Elliot is based on Brighton, Boston. The Brothers Stand United is a gang based on FSU from Boston whom Zilla 2000 made up._

_Gloucester Hill is based on Reed Hill_

_617 is the area code of Boston_

_Odioda Raza is based on the gang La Raza Nation._

_The Palermi family is based on the Patriarca crime family., The Heathens MC is based on the Pagans MC. Brothers Stand United is based off the real life gang FSU. Scott Parker is based on Elgin James, Frank Malone is historically based on Whitey Bulger and visually on Jack Nickolson and specifically his playing of him in The Departed._

_El Lupo is based on Lobo Sebastian and Casper is based on Noel G._

_Jimmy/James Burke is based on Kid Rock while Warren Burke is visually based on The Undertaker from wrestling. Specifically the Undertaker during his American Bad Ass years. I preferred him more like that. He had a bad ass theme song._

_As for Ezra's moment where he saw the Palestinian what do you think really happened? It's not exactly what happened in his vision. In a way his hallucination was mixing with reality. Also what do you think Ezra's nickname might be and do you think he earned it in the military, the Mossad or working for the Abehsera family?_

_Next chapter, Ezra will go and see his other cousin, Gideon finally. _

_Anyway, with having him throw up after what he did while he may not yet be as humanized as a lot of my more established oc's in other stories this humanizes him to a point and I did so in a way different from any other character I had so far with a background like his in fighting as a soldier in a war._

_I know I said more was gonna happen this chapter but with Ballad mostly finished I should have more time with this story and I swear next chapter will feature my other three protagonists. I hope you enjoyed. That's it for now. _


	5. From All Sides

_Ezra_

They dropped in to Gideon's house. Ezra knocked sighing. Archie opened the door saying, "The fuck's the matta with you? Family doesn't need to knock."

Gideon came out looking ready to cuss Archie out. He was wearing a black sweater and gray jeans. He saw Ezra. "Ezzy...?" His cousin had black curly hair and brown eyes plus a black beard. He stood at five foot eleven. He was thirty three years old. "When did you get back?"

"A few weeks ago maybe a month. I'm not sure. I'm sorry I didn't come over sooner."

Gideon was reluctant but he hugged his cousin saying, "I...thought maybe you might have gotten hurt over there. Things are really bad I hear on the news."

"Yes they are," Ezra admitted. Archie told his older brother, "Well fuck all this polite shit let's get a fuckin drink!"

Gideon told him, "Arch, I'm married with kids I can't just go to a bar..."

"you believe this guy? He's fucking pussy whipped," Archie said. Gideon told him, "No it's called being responsible. We can't all be dead beat drug dealers, Arch. Some of us actually work for a living. Have obligations. Call me pussy whipped all you want at least I'm not single at thirty."

"That hurts, Gideon. You know where it hurts? Right on my fucking cock. See I can get any sexy bitch I want to bounce on me until it's fucking raw and red doggy. I fucking love it! Ahahaha!" Gideon rolled his eyes. "It's like talking to a child. Look...one drink all right? I want to see what Ezra's been up to. I hope you haven't been taking too much influence from this guy. He collects welfare checks. I don't understand it. We grew up middle class you have to have a plan to fail to fuck up that badly."

They got into Archie's Willard. "Cmon, ya fucking pussy get in the car before I kick your ass."

Gideon, despite always being the more serious of the two, chuckled. "You can't fight, Archie. I may not be a working class disaster like you and yeah I maybe comfortable where i am but I'm not the guy you want to be your first fight. Maybe pick a third grader first somebody more on your level."

They got in the car and the song We Made You by Eminem blasted as Archie put it on Hype FM.

"Ezra man, this is...this is surreal. You don't sound the same. I haven't seen you since we were kids."

"Then how did you recognize me?"

"I don't know your features are the same but man you're an adult. I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch, buddy, I've just been busy. I own a restaurant now. I've owned it for a few years."

"That's good to hear. I'm happy for you," It was odd to him that Gideon felt like a stranger while Archie he had felt that warmth from. The warmth of brotherhood despite being a dumb ass. Gideon despite being the responsible one was estranged. "Yeah it's all right I've been trying to get Archie to work with me but he doesn't want a job."

"Yeah crazy me right I don't want the IRS up my ass taking my money. And they say Jews are greedy."

"You're not even observant! You fucking eat bacon for Christ sakes and if you had a job you'd probably work on the Sabbath too."

"Hey, you don't consider selling dope a real job so no matter what day of the week i'm technically honoring the sabbath right?" He let out an idiotic cackle. "No not really," Archie said. "It's still business legal or not."

"Fuck that! the covenant never said I can't sell dope on a Saturday! It never even factored into the Torah! It's not like I'm going to hell if I don't do it. We don't believe in hell so what's my motivation?"

"Your motivation should be that it's our heritage, Arch. We didn't go through four thousand years of bullshit just to have so many of us not even give a damn anymore. Your motivation should be doin the right thing. This isn';t the old days we don't gotta worry about getting smited by plagues if we don't obey but that shouldn't be what motivates you. You should want to do the right thing. Things won't start to get biblical again until HaOlam HaBa."

He then looked at Ezra. "What about you have you kept kosher?"

"Yes and no. I haven't eaten anything I'm not supposed to. But I don't really pray anymore. I'm not sure if I have faith in Yahweh anymore."

"You can't be serious first Archie now you?" Ezra told him, "It's not for the reasons you think. It wasn't out of laziness. When I get settled back in I'll tell you more. Let's just say for now, that I've seen some things over there that not only made me question the existence of a beneveolent creator but it made me wonder if maybe the world would be better off if humanity went extinct. Who knows? Animal kingdom makes it their own again. They have their own food chain but at least there is enough to go around. No extinction due to too much hunting of buffalo or exotic safari hunts in Africa. Or ivory poaching in Thailand. Who knows maybe in a million years the apes we have still now will evolve to a smarter branch of humans. But the current humans need to go."

"Jesus you two suckers are depressing the shit outta me. Now I know I need a drink!" Archie bellowed.

_Jin Lao_

_Welcoming Party _

Four men exited the dark gray 2007 Fugitive. A tall Chinese American turned to his comrades. He was six feet tall and he wore a dark red double breasted jacket wit charcoal pants and black loafers. He was twenty six years old and clean shaven, his skin tone a bronze yellowish color. He was in great shape, lean but muscular. His name was Jin Lao. Originally from San Fierro, he was a member of the Red Gecko Tong from out there. However, he was laying low on the east coast after committing a murder in Chinatown. The San Fierro PD as well as the FIB had taken down many key leaders of the Red Gecko Tong. For all intends and purposes, they were mostly defunct since most members were now inside or on the run. Some had gone to Liberty City, others to Vice City. Some had gon back to China.

Jin Lao, on the other hand, recalled his time in the San Andrean correctional facility. All though Upstate San Andreas prisons were no picnic for Asian inmates they had banded together and he had saved the life of an inmate originally from the Carcer City Triad. This man was with him now. A man who had come to be a good friend.

Bao-Zhi Ling. Bao-Zhi stood at five foot six and he had a narrow but muscular build as well. He was around the same skin tone as Jin Lao. He wore a black onyx suit with a gray tie black loafers and black slacks plus sunglasses. His hair was light brown but had blondish streaks and had somewhat of a punk rock style to it.

His uncle was a leader of a local Triad tong here in Waston. Still, Jin Lao wanted to secure some influence for the Red Gecko in case anymore ofhis brothers in arms surfaced in Waston. So all though his skill set would be at Bao-Zhi and his uncle's desposal he wanted to get a slice of the pie for them as well with of course showing respect to the established Tong, the Iron Dragons. As Bao-Zhi had informed him, a lot of local gangs, despite the amount of time the Iron Dragons had been in Waston for a couple of decades, were still hostile and wanted to keep them from establishing themselves outside of Chinatown.

They had recruited in other neighborhoods of course, outside of the area and had recruited not only Chinese immigrants but Vietnamese as well. Now they were on their way to a deal with a gang from Waston's inner city but despite said gangsters reputation of notoriety, they were willing to parlay.

The other two Triads were also Iron Dragon's however they were Bao Zhi's uncle's contacts from the Canadian side. They were here to make a heroin deal. They were down at the docks at the Port Of Waston. A dark red Felon pulled up and four black men got out. The driver, who Jin Lao presumed was the leader was a tall black male with dark skin and curly hair. He wore Hitlerland boots and baggy jeans plus a puffy black jacket. The second wore a green basketball jersey and was light skinned with cornrows and a head band plus had baggy blue jeans.

The third was between the two in skin tone and he wore a denim black jacket denim black jeans and a white do-rag and he had gold teeth in his mouth. The fourth was an overweight black male wearing a silver jacket and baggy stonewashed violet jeans. "You Bao-Zhi?" Asked the leader.

"Yeah. You got the money?"

"Fo sho. But why you acting all nervous?"

"I'm not. I'm doing you a favor. This is that good shit. Not that black tar bullshit you sell in the hood. This is quality China white."

"Aight I feel it but am I getting what I paid for is the question."

"80% pure," Assured Jin Lao. "Do you got the money?"

He held a large briefcase. The lighter skinned guy said, "Just like ya'll asked for. $444,000."

Jin Lao began to count it. "I'm saying though this shit better be good feel me cause I'm thinking shit used to go for 100 K a key and now we down to 88. Maybe I should wait till prices drop another 8 g's?"

"That's the best offer you're going to get," Stated one of the Canadian Triads, a mean looking Chinese man who stood five foot seven and wore a black leather jacket. "Take it or leave it," He warned. "Aight aight chill..."

Finally, Jin Lao finished counting. "We're good," His friend nodded. "All right show em the stuff," The Canadian Triad opened a case revealing 5 keys. "Man just think," Stated the more crusty looking black drug client. "If this shit was caine it'd be hella cheaper."

"But it aint caine, nigga shut the fuck up," Stated the overweight male. As they exchanged the goods, the overweight black man got out a knife and started to cut the package open and he put a line on the knife. He snorted it. "Oooohweeee! I'm feeling that..."

Jin Lao turned to Bao-Zhi. "Wǒmen yīnggāi kuài diǎn. Wǒmen hěn xìngyùn nǐ zhīfùle gǎngkǒu quán, dàn wǒmen háishì yīnggāi líkāi zhèlǐ. Chuánwù shàng fāshēngle hěnduō hǎoshì."

(We should hurry. We're lucky you paid off the port authority but we should still get out of good ever happens at the docks.)

The Canadian Triad who Jin Lao knew was named Li Feng, chuckled. "Gēgē, nǐ shì piānzhí kuáng. Zhège chéngshì shì nǐ de mǔlì. Hǎohǎo xiǎngshòu."

(Brother, you are being paranoid. This city is your oyster. Enjoy it.)

None of the men noticed the black clad Caucasian men wearing Baklavas approaching from behind containers. Six to be exact. All of them were Caucasian and one carried a Spas 12, another carried an H&amp;K MP5, the third carried an M4 Carbine, the fourth carried a P90, the fifth carried a IMI Galil and the sixth carried a Benelli M3. The black gang member in charge offered his hand to shake and Bao-Zhi shook it. "My nigga. We in business. Oh and as for those other motherfuckers round our neck of the woods if they give ya boys any shit all you need to do is holla cause we..."

He was cut off as a barrage of gunshots were fired on the group of eight men. The black man with the gold teeth was the first to go taking seven rounds from the IMI in the back plus four from the H&amp;K. The fourth Iron Dragon member with whom Jin Lao was not aqquianted as to his name was the next to get mowed down. He took a shot from the M3 in the shoulder followed by nine rounds from the P90.

The black gangsters dropped the case of drugs as the remaining three retrieved their handguns to try and defend themselves. "Motherfuckers!" Yelled te light skinned man as he fired eight shots off hitting the gunmen with the MP5 twice in the left shoulder before he could get to cover. The heavyset black man aimed his pistol at the already wounded gunmen yelling, "You wanna fuck with us?!" Before he could fire, however, he was hit in the back with a blast from the Spas 12. He cried out falling over coughing up blood.

Jin Lao and Bao-Zhi retreated to the car Bao- Zhi popped the trunk and he tossed a Mac-10 to Jin Lao who let it rip hitting the attacker with the P90 with a burst of rounds to the face. He saw that he blew out the man's right eye as it hung by a thread from his socket. The leader of the black gang members plus his lighter skinned friend retreated to their own car as they were under fire from the remaining attackers but between the two of them, they both hit the already wounded man with the MP5 six more times. Meanwhile, Li Feng, grabbed the case of money and was firing his pistol like a mad man. He hit the gunmen with the IMI with three rounds in the throat but before he could get back to the car, he was hit by twenty four rounds in the chest from the Carbine and the man proceeded to spray at Jin Lao and Bao-Zhi.

Bao-Zhi got the car started pulling it around while Jin Lao unloaded twenty rounds trying to scatter the gunmen. The man with the M4 got the money and another one of them had gotten the drugs. "Mothafucka that's our shit!" Yelled the lighter skinned black guy as he discharged what remained in the magazine. Jin Lao emptied the SMG and hit another one of them but it happened too quick to see which one and he dove into the open window of Bao-Zhi's car not having time to open the door and the car sped off.

"Shit shit shit! The fuck do we do now?! I told you we shouldn't have met at the docks!"

"We gotta go see uncle. He'll know what to do!"

Ezra

_Sending A Message_

He was having a drink at the bar with Archie and cousin Billy. Willie had sat down next to Archie but had just ordered a beer and said nothing. He still couldn't believe that he had an Irish cousin due to their uncle. He watched as Frank Malone came sitting down next to Willy and all though the three Hebrews were aware of whom Frank Malone, Ezra from meeting him a few days ago, Archie by working for him and Gideon by reputation, it seemed that the Irish American was oblivious to him. Even though Ezra had not been back in America but a month or so he didn't think it was possible to be Irish and not know who Frank Malone was. Once he had learned himself who he was and started looking up on Eyefind who he was, and just how many crimes the guy had been accused of and still walked from, it was amazing to him that he hadn't known. Even if he was from Liberty originally but that past American life he'd had felt like another person's life.

Willie still had a cast on from his fight with the two Italians.

"Do you know who i am?" He asked Willie. Willie looked at him and said, "No."

"Your cousin met my friend Mr. French the other night."

He looked behind him to see the Irish thug beind him at a table sipping a Whiskey. "Is that his real name? Mr. French?" Asked Willie. Frank smirked. "No."

He took a shot and said, "Come with me," The Irishmen was reluctant so Frank stood up and said, "I'm not the cops. I'm not asking ya,"

He stood up and he said, "Hey kosher boy. You too."

Archie asked, "What's going on, Mr. Malone?"

"Don't you worry about it. We won't keep him long."

Gideon turned to Archie. "What the fuck, Arch? You're already getting Ezra mixed up in your bullshit? I didn't even know he was back yet and you're already getting him into trouble."

"He's a big boy he can hande himself," The two argued. "Yeah but what's this about our Aunt having a bastard son we don't know about?"

"Don't call him a bastard. He's family!"

"You know th rules. Bastard until the tenth generation."

"That's our rules not his and I don't really give a fuck about that."

They walked into the back and Frank said, "You know they just do not stop having mafia in the north end and Prudence and this can cause me a lot of problems," Mr. French followed him back. "Those guys you tuned up? They're connected down in Prudence. What they're gonna do is send some guys to come and kill you. Which, sure as you're born, they will do. Unless I stop them. Do you want me to stop em?"

His estranged cousin asked, "Is this something we can't do personally?" Frank ignored the question and told him, "I'm gonna have my associate search you," Ezra held his arms up and he told him, "Not you. You're good. Just watch."

"You're not gonna fuckin search me search me for what?!" Mr. French told him, "Contra fuckin band," Malone ordered, "Take your shoes off,"

He looked at him and said, "I knew your father,"

"Yeah? Did you know he's dead?" Asked Will.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. How did he go?" Ezra knew he knew the answer but he was testing him.

"He didn't complain,"

"Yeah. That was always his problem," Frank said as Mr. French searched him. "Who said he had a problem?" Asked the half Irish half Jewish man. "I just said he had a fuckin problem," Stated Frank. "There was a man who could have been anything."

"You trying to say he was nothing?" Squeaked Willie. "I'm saying he worked at the fuckin airport," Mr. French then reported, "He's clean."

He took both of the shoes. Mr. French led him to the pool table. "Gimme your arm," Willy voiced some protest but handed it over. "Flip it," Mr. French ordered. He did and he slammed his cast down on the table twice. Willy started to scream out in pain. Ezra rose to his feet but in a quick draw, Frank had a pistol aimed at Ezra. "Sit the fuck down. You're here to observe. I like my Jews observant."

Ezra almost would have chuckled at the double meaning despite the Anti Semitic tones. "What';s the meaning of this?" Demanded Ezra. He told him, "Sit down and shut your mouth and you'll see."

He broke the cast. "Makes me curious to see you in this neighborhood. But if I can slander my own envioroment it makes me sad this regression...plus I don';t know if it's beyond some cop prick like Queenan to pull you out of the staties and send you after me."

He took Willy's boot and Mr. French stood back with his own gun on Ezra to make sure he didn't intervene. All though Ezra was in close quarter combat situations before, he was several feet away and he knew that he would be shot before he'd be able to clear his own pistol and fire. Plus using Krav Maga on these Celtic thugs was out of the question as Mr. French would easily riddle him with bullets before he got to him. Ezra was quick but he was not that quick.

Willy howled in pain. "ARE YOU STILL A COP?!" Demanded Frank. Willy's face had gone from white to tomato red. "NO!" He screamed doubling over. "Swear on your mothers grave you're not a fucking cop?!" He hit him again and Willy shreiked, "I'M NOT A FUCKING COP!"

"YOU GONNA STOP DOING COKE DEALS AROUND HERE WITH YOUR JERK OFF COUSINS?!"

"YES!" He was on the verge of tears. "Okay okay...you'll be all right. Get your hand taken care of. I'm sorry but it was nessecary."

He tossed a wad of cash at him and he collapsed in pain on the ground.

He then turned to Ezra and said, "The only reason you're not getting that treatment is because of the favor you did for me. I could use a guy like you. Make sure Archie doesn't do anymore coke deals around my neighborhood. I don't give a fuck if he peddles that shit in East, North End, Rockford or downtown but around here we don't need that shit."

"So you're saying your men are anti drug?" Asked the Isreali. "I didn't say that. Your cousin is useful to me as long as he pays up. But he's just a flunkie. A clown. Some have what it takes. Others don't. You're one of those guys that has that fire in you. The men that move shit in my neighborhood have a little thing called discretion. They don't fucking stand on street corners. And they don't go around selling crack. They wear suits and ties or at least just a leather jacket. Point is, they don't look like drug dealers."

"Then why isn't Archie the one who got hurt?"

"Because Archie is a pussy," Frank told him. "He aint a fighter. From what I hear his brother's a pussy too. But you have balls. And this guy might have bals too," He said looking at the collapsed cousin on the ground writhing in pain. "He just caught a bit of bad luck."

"All right. So...do you need me to do anything?"

"The mafia is sending their guys after us. They obviously feel more safe out there in Prudence than in Waston. The thing is, because of who your uncle was and who Willy's uncle was and frankly even his dad, I have some respect for im but I needed to see if he had any balls and could hold up under pressure. Get the kid to the hospital. I have a job for ya."

Ezra helped Willie up and told him, "Go out the back door. Wait in my car. I'll tell Archie and Gideon to go get a cab."

Frank called to Willy as they walked opposite ways, "As for our problem with Prudence...let's not cry over skilled guineas," He said with a crooked smile on his face. As they walked out to the bar, Ezra told Archie and Gideon, "I need to borrow your car, Archie. I'll explain later. Gideon, we catch up later, yes?"

He walked out the back. Gideon and Archie continued arguing over this. Frank approached an older white male in his 40's or 5's who wore a red shirt and a black beret and had a brown mustache that was graying. "Who let this IRA mothafucka in my bah?" Demanded Frank. He then chuckled patting the guy on the back. "Just kidding, how's your mother?"

The man replied with a thick Irish accent, "Ah she's on her way out," Frank told him, "We all are. Act accordingly."

He exited the bar and they got into the Willard. "The guy's a fuckin psychopath."

"Yes he is. I pity the man who would really try and infiltrate his operation."

"What you mean you aint?" Ezra asked him, "Are you serious about that? I could always break your other hand and have you tell me. Of course, that was nothing compared to the damage I could do."

"Jesus all right...don't you start now too..."

He took him to the South Waston Community Health Center. "So...let me see if I got this right...you and Archie and that guy out there are my family through my Uncle Jack? Because he was half Sephardic and...Enid had kids?"

Ezra shrugged. "I guess so. I don't really know. I know of Uncle Jack but I don't tremember him. I know him by reputration mostly. And I know what happened to him. That's about it."

"He was with Malone's crew. And the McReary's. Fact is, I was looking to earn a little extra cash myself. What kind of piece of shit re breaks my hand then gives me the money to get it fixed?"

"Toughen up. You Americans are kind pf pussies," Ezra said. "A gentlemen is who pays for it."

"Are you fuckin serious? Besides you're American too,"

"No not since the 80's. Ive forgotten what being American means. And even if I remembered it, things are not the same in this country as it was in 88'. I don't recognize anything. And I don't just mean being in a new city either. The cell phones everywhere. Yet nobody talks on them. We're plugged in and tuned out at the same time. I didn't mean to make light of your injury. I liken something like that to a cop giving you a skul fracture and then taking you to the hospital. I know that's what they're supposed to do. It's still adding insult to injury. But to be fair, that's about what I expect with a man like Frankie Malone."

"That's good cause if you was from here, you'd know that even the newest houses in this fuckin town were built in the 30's."

"Have you ever done this line of work before?" The ex Mossad agent asked. "What you mean kill somebody? No. Just a few coke deals here and there. Ever since Archie told me we were related he's been helping me get started. Only for Milky to tell me that I can't sell in South Waston anymore? I don't get why Archie didn't get that done to him."

"Who is Milky?"

"That's Frank's nickname on the streets. Milky Malone but don't ever ever call him that. He hates that shit. Just cal him Frank, Frankie if you know him well or Mr. Malone. You didn't answer my question."

"He was with his brother. If he was going to do something to him, he'd probably want to do it when Gideon wasn't around. Gideon isn't a criminal. And frankly neither is Archie. At least not a very good one."

"Yeah he must not be if he didn't tell you Milky was his nickname or that he should never call him that.

"How do you know it? I find it strange that a man who has never heard of him until recently was able to find this out. Besides, it would have been a non issue anyway I call him by his real name."

"hey I'm not an idiot. People on the streets talk. He's got his soldiers hanging around damn near every Southie bar."

"If you've never worked with a man of this influence I don't think you should start now. Stick to cocaine deals. Stay small time. Just do it away Frank's turf."

"Well what do you know about the streets?" The Caucasian male asked him. "I mean fuck you been outta the country for most of your life yeah you might have been a commando or whatever you call it over there but that doesn't mean you're nessecarily cut for this shit either. I'm not denying some gangsters are ex military but I'm just saying. With a resume like yours, hell you'd be more fitting to be a cop than me. Not sure if Waston PD would let a guy who was ex Mossad from Tel Aviv join the fore though. Not sure if that'd cause a diplomatic overlap or not."

"Let's just say Frank Malone isn't the first man of his kind I've worked for. I'm not saying i'm proud of that. I'm just saying I know what to expect. As for what you said about military men going into the police, this is true but a good police officer is going to know the streets just as well if not better than a criminal. So I'd say an army man is perfect for the streets. We're trained in urban combat."

They pulled up to the Waston Wellness Center. He went inside. He got a call and he answered. "Hello?" Mr. French was on the other end. "Bring the car back to the bar. We'll make sure and take your cousin's keys and get him a cab. I'll be waiting with a ride and a few associates."

Ezra hung up and began to drive back. Before lon, about twenty minutes later he saw the man standing outside. He had with him two more Irish first was a Caucasian male with dark brown hair slicked back and he wore a suit and tie. He was in his late thirties. The second gang member was in his late twenties and had dark brown hair and brown eyes as well. He wore a black leather jacket over a white t shirt and blue jeans. "That's Fitzy and Danny O'Doyle. They'll be going with us while we pay some wops a visit."

They had a gray Schafter. "You drive," Mr French instructed. "Why?"

"Because I don't fuckin trust ya. Even if Mr. Malone does. Now get in."

Mr. French got up front while the younger goons got in the back. Mr. French put th radio on and Dark Side Of The Moon by Pink Floyd played. "Take us to the North End. Montpelier Building off Churchill Street."

"So who's this then?" Asked Fitzy in a Belfast accent. "This is Ezra Mizrahi. Archie Mizrahi's cousin."

"Shyte, mate. Frank must be getting desperate if he's bringing in out of towners."

"You're from out of town, boyo," Danny told him. "And you're not a real son of Erin. You're a feckin yank. You weren't born in the Emereld Aisle."

"Fuck you, Fitzgerald. My blood is as green as yours don't matter where I'm born. Besides, you faggots in Belfast voted to remain part of the UK."

"Wasn't me, lad. The six counties voted for that. I'd have much ratehr joined the 26 counties. And you know what I mean. I been here for a lot longer."

"Both of you shut the fuck up. Now Ezra, do you know who the Paganelli Family is?"

"No."

"North End mafia. You remember the fellas at the store? They're our main enemies. They're on the North End while we live in the Southern part of town. It's the opposite of Carcer City. Micks on the southern side, wops on the northern side. They're friends with the Commission. They've been trying to shut us down since we started."

Danny nodded. "Fucking assholes killed my buddy Luke three years ago. Shot the poor bastard while he was changing a they let the car fall on his face."

"And now we're going to go let it be known that they'll never run us out," Fitzy added. They drove for about ten more minutes before pulling up to where they were meant to go. Mr. French pointed out a black Sentinel XS. Four Italian American men got into it. The first was a Caucasian with a Mediterranean tan in a brown suit with black loafers. He was about five foot seven. He looked to be in his early was bald and had a mustache and black stubble. The second wore a brown leather jacket and black pants and had his medium brown hair slicked back with Pomade. He was in his thirties and stood six two. He was clean shaven.

The third gang member wore a black Onyx suit from Perseus. He had pale skin but jet black hair in a crew cut and dark brown eyes and was clean shaven standing about six feet tall. He was in his late twenties or early thirties. The fourth was overweight by maybe seventy five pounds and was darker than the rest of them. He had slicked back hair too but it was longer and he had a graying mustache and goatee. He was about five foot six and he was the one driving. Ezra could tell by the way he carried himself plus by his age that he was higher ranking than the rest of them.

"All right boyo. Now you tail him. Mr. Malone said they got some of their crew at some meeting spot in the North End. Some of the boys saw them around the neighborhood up here. Now we just find out where and show them who really runs this city."

Ezra stayed three lanes behind the car as they got in. They had a conversation going on. "You believe these morons who think Owasu aint born in America?"

"Yeah. The guy maybe a fucking commie but he's our commie. Or Carcer's anyway. The birther movement's full of shit," Remarked the fattest and oldest member.

"Yeah well next time maybe they should run a better man against him than some old fart and a car dealership model."

"Yeah but did you see the tits on that babe? She's got that milf thing going on. Govern this, sweetheart!"

The four wise guys got into the car and began to drive out. Ezra followed them staying behind. He changed the station to a Punk Rock Station 108 Pick Radio. The song Holidays In The Sun by Sex Pistols played. "So Ezra, you see any combat over there in Israel?"

"Sure. It's not like US wars. We don't really get any breathing room over there. It just never ends. How about you? You see any action in Belfast?"

"No, broham But funny enough the last time me went home I got off the feckin plane and saw bullet casing all over the goddamn air strip. I asked me da what the meaning of this shite was and do you know what he told me?"

Danny and Mr. French said it at the same time as Fitzy with an eye roll. "Welcome home, lad."

"Oi it's my story let me tell it!"

Mr French chuckled. "Sure. It's your story. We'll let you tell it."

"That's what I just said!"

Danny then looked at him saying, "So you're with the Isreali government, right? So that means you sided with the US and the British?"

"I sided with my own country. Look, if you're going to go on an anti Zionist rant spare me. I've heard it all before. i've had rocks thrown at me calling me a Zionist tool of Satan. I'm not saying I agree with everything my country has done but unlike the States we haven't had one minute of peace since its founding. I was raised to believe that if our country fell yours would be next. I don't care about England or their policy in Northern Ireland."

"Is that so?" Asked Mr French. "Cause if I recall me history books right, the British snatched it from the Palistinians and gave it to the lot of youse. You are what you are. Aint any shame in it but at least be honest with yourself."

"You don't know where i've been, what I've done or what I've seen," He said his voice raising in irritation.

"Relax, boyo," Fritzy told him. "All Danny Boy was saying was that the Palestinians and the IRA are allies. And the UK and Israel are allies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Well just so we're clear, I support Palestine's right to exist. Absolutely. Many of my countrymen don't agree but then a lot of Palestinians don't think we should exist either. But we deserve to. And they deserve to. 66% of the world thinks Palestine has a right to exist. The remaining 34% that thinks otherwise are mostly the US and Western European Nato states."

"Aye, but most of the countries that support Palestine's right to exist are as big of shit holes as Palestine itself. While all the well off countries support youse. Maybe that 34% are onto something," Suggested Mr. French. Danny objected, "How can they be anything but a shit hole if they can't even establish themselves?"

"Ah that's crap," The oldest of the four stated. "There's 50 Muslim countries in the world. Have a little self respect for your ancestors, lad. Every man needs a country of his own. Are you telling me you doubt what you did so much that you don't think your folks should have at least one Jewish majority country. Have a little ethnic pride, ya Eejit."

"I don't disagree. I told myself that and I believed that. My parents were killed by a suicide bomber. I always used to wonder why they hated us so badly. We basically worship the same God with some minor differences. I thought that they already have 50 countries of their own and Christians have even more. These assholes couldn't let us have just one. A country with only 7 million people. But that doesn't mean Palestine can't exist too. I agree that Northern Ireland should be yours too. It's a different story there. The playing field isn't an equal playing field with Ireland and England. Just because it seemed pretty clear and cut about my own country, doesn't mean Palestine's allies didn't have a valid point."

"You really think Israel and Palestine are on an equal playing field?"

"They commited attrocities against us in the holy land for a thousand years under their rule. I'm not sayinmg every time we ever killed anybody from the other side was all right but I can't blame my countrymen for being angry and wanting payback once we got a little power. What our our options? In Europe we were slaughtered by Nazis. In the middle east, by Arabs. What's worse is that I know at the end of the day we are cousins them and us. It's just like when the Hutu killed so many Tutsi in the 90's. I'm not denying that was reprehensible. But for all of the talk about the Tutsi victims not too many people shed tears wen it was Hutu being slaughtered by Tutsi's in the 70's."

If they agreed to not have middle eastern countries attacking us and we agreed to not drop bombs on the Gaza Strip...we could end this today. It's really that simple."

Danny looked out the window as it started to rain. "It's that simple. And yet it's not."

Fitzy chuckled. "What's with all the pro Jewish guilt, mate? Is you half shylock?"

"Shut your trap. I'm no bible shortner. I just know that Mother Ireland remained neuteral. Why help the Axis when it aint our fight? And why help the Allies when the Brits were part of it? Only trouble was, a lot of us turned away Jewish refugees trying to find asylum."

Fitzy laughed. "Aye. Ireland is a feckin mental asylum."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of asylum ya fuckin retard. And yeah that's true but so what? You forgetting all our Celt brothers living on Sax land fighting for the King's army? Only to be starved either when the limeys thought food rations should only be used for Queen Elizacunt's bastard spawns and not for hungry paddy's? So I'd say any karma guilt we had is fucking absolved from that."

They pulled up to the spot and saw the four mafia members get out. Ezra readied his Desert Eagle. Mr. French went to the trunk and he took a Heckler &amp; Koch FABARM FP6. Danny grabbed a Franchi SPAS-15. "Great. A fucking guinea gun."

"That's right boy," Mr. French told him. "A guinea gun. And it'll kill them just the same."

Fitzy took a Bizon.

"Now are there any theological objections to killing wise guys in a house of worship? I'm Sephardic so I don't even believe in hell."

"I'm a lapsed Catholic," Said Fitzy with a shrug. "I was raised Protestant and I'm Agnostic now. But the one thing I do believe in is killing as many Paganelli cocksuckers as I can. I'm a simple man. I take my pleasures where I can get them."

"And I'm already going to hell so a few more corpses won't make a difference," Mr. French said shutting the trunk. They went and tried the door. The door was locked. "What now?" Mr French rolled his eyes. "You're meant to be ex Mossad. You gonna let a fuckin door get in your way are ya?"

"I didn't say that. You just didn't say how much noise we're allowed to make."

"If it's getting made you're worried about don't worry. Nobody in this town is dumb enough to testify against Frank. That's suicide. A civie wouldn't be able to hide anywhere he can't get them and a wise guy has a code just like all of us. No talking to cops. They'd rather take their chances of coming after us instead. or trying. Now that you mention it I got an idea. Why don't you go knock on the door? We're gonna try the window."

"Why don't we all just go through the door and blast our way through?" Asked Fitzy. "Because it's a pincer move you dumb shite. Fucking northerners," Mr. French said.

Ezra sighed walking up to the door knocking while the three Autumn Hill gangsters went around the side. "We're closed! Sunday services at 8AM! Come back then! The lord will understand!" Shouted a man with a New England accent from inside. Ezra kept knocking. "Fuck off! We're closed!" Yelled another. _That's some language to be using in a house of God. _Thought Ezra.

He kept banging on it.

Meanwhile, Mr. French, Fitzy, and Danny had managed to find an open window and they were climbing in trying to make as little noise as possible. Danny and Mr. French got in with no problem despite being overweight. Fitzy was having a harder time as he caught his jacket in the window. Mr. French and Danny ducked behind a pew but Fitzy was still stuck. "Get the fuck down!" Whispered Mr. French in a harsh whisper.

At the front door, a wise guy wearing a maroon track suit standing at six foot seven with slicked back black hair, sunken in eyes and a snarl on his face answered. "Do you know what fuck off means, asshole?"

"I do. But I'm not part of your parish. Instead I thought we might have a little inter faith dialogue," He pointed his Desert Eagle at his head and the wise guy froze. "Move," Ezra told him. They walked inside. "If you want to live, you'd better act natural."

He hit behind a wall near the entrance and he looked to see bible pamplets on a table next to him. "Don't try anything. And if you feel brave enough to try just remember I can shoot you before you get your gun. I'm an excellent shot so don't test me."

"Hey did you tell them to fuck off?" Asked one of the wise guys. "Yeah. It was just some Mormons."

"The fuck. Dont they know we're already the oldest church?"

"Sure was nice of Father Madano to let us use this place to meet up here,"

"Yeah well, I'm a supporter of the church. All I gotta do before I'm on my way out is say a few hail mary's ask for the lord's mercy and I'm good to go."

"Probably on your way to Purgatory when you die," Stated another. He snuck a look around the corner and saw the fat guy handing out wads of cash from an envelope. "Purgatory? I aint looking to go to that Irish shit hole."

"No I meant the real Purgatory."

"How long do you end up in Purgatory before you get to go to heaven?"

Just then, Fritzy bumped into a pew. The mafiosos looked to see what had happened. "What the fuck?" Ezra came out blazing. He hit the tall mafia member in the back and watched as two gigantic bullet holes appeared in his back. The rounds went through him and he fell over coughing up blood. He saw another member going for his gun. He fired hitting him in the face and split his skull to pieces. Fitzy fired his SMG and let of twelve rounds and he hit the Italian who was six feet tall

_Cameron_

_Interception_

The Irish American was on his way to pull over the two men Mr. Malone had ordered him to. Cameron Moriarty put the light on up on top of his car and began to flash his lights for the two men in the red Cognesetti to pull over. They held off doing so until the last minute. He walked up and the driver, an Italian American wearing a red dress shirt under a fancy black sports jacket and gray slacks said, "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Liscense and registration, please."

They reluctantly handed it over. "You're making a big mistake. Mr. Ricci is a big time contribute to policeman's balls!" Cameron told him, "You know what? Step out of the car with your hands up. Both of youse. Before I make you play with this policeman's balls."

"Are you fucking serious?" Asked the passenger who was wearing a black leather jacket, a striped yellow silk short and black slacks. "No, I was just kidding. You're free to go. Yeah I'm feckin serious. Both of you. Right now."

The driver did as he said and he ordered them both to go sit on the curb. "I know my rights!" The driver, an Italian American with olive skin, curly black hair, and a thin mustache stated. "I do not consent to a search, officer! This is an illegal search! You do not have a warrant!" The Irishman told him, "Duly noted. Now shut ya cocksucka!"He began to look through the glovebox. He found two Revolvers. There was two .38 Revolvers. He popped the trunk and went to go and look at what they had in the back. He whistled. "Nice fuckin M3. You two going hunting?"

"It's registered, officer."

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

He went to the car and punched the serial numbers into the database. He came back saying, "Well then...Mr. Farrah...I guess you're free to go...but I gotta say...you must vacation in Palermo a lot. Or maybe Mogadishu."

"The fuck's he talking about?" The passenger asked. "I got no fucking idea. Just keep your mouth shut."

He told the two of them, "Let me show you both something. Cmere," Pronouncing the come here as com meyah.

"What?" The driver asked. He showed him the picture of one Ali Farrah, a Somali national. "You know they say Sicilians got some Moorish blood in em but geesh..."

"All right. Go ahead and book us. We'll be out in 48 houts."

He cuffed them both and put them in the back of their own car. "Hey, what the fuck? Who has two pairs of cuffs? You fucking spud eating cocksucker! You aint no fucking cop! You're one of Frankie Malone's boys! We're gonna clip him and you."

"Well you're partly right. I am one of his boys. But I really am a cop. And maybe one of your north end boys might get me. But it won't be you."

They started both cursing at him. "You think you're getting out of this you fucking mick?! We're gonna drop you and that Isreali cocksucker!"

"Whoa whoa, what Isreali cocksucker?"

"Don't tell him nothing, Artie," The driver said. The Irishman smiled as he drove off. Artie said, "You can't do this. You're a cop. Don't youse got cameras on the car?"

"Oh that?" The Irish American cop laughed. "I'm off duty. Yeah, this siren and light? Sometimes I use it off duty. I get to take six packs from underage kids, score dope off kids selling on MLK boulevard. Today though? I caught two fucking guineas."

He turned the radio to Waston Rock Radio and the song Shipping Off To Boston by the Dropkick Murphy's blasted as he drove them to a secluded area. He got out of the car retrieving his Glock 40.

He kept the radio up. He then uncuffed the two men telling them, "I'll give you a ten second head start," The two began to run off yelling, "You're gonna fucking regret this!" He ai,med down at them as they ran. "One two three four five six seven eight nine ten!" He fired hitting the first man in the back. He fired a third round hitting the Italian in the back of the head. The other man continued running. He fired two shots and hit him in the back of the skull as well.

He got out of the area as he left them in the field. He left the music playing loud. He walked until he got back to a main street and he dialed a cab. Once he was on his way back to South Waston, he texted Frank. **Done. On my way back.**

He remembered the days when he was just a child. His father had been an FIB agent who had grown up in Southie with Frank. Frank had gotten his dad's back when they grew up in the projects when some neighborhood thugs had tried to beat his ass, Frank had stepped in. His father had in turn covered for him for many years and had even gotten him to be an informant on the mafia. But of course, somehow, Malone walked and his father had gone to prison. He didn't quite understand how that worked. An FIB, a crooked one at that, goes down but the guy that he's covering for didn't. For a time, Cameron hated Malone for this. But he had never expressed it.

Over time, he had even learned to see him as a father figure and had even looked out for him like a father. Not too long after that, his ma had been killed. Malone had looked after him for years after that. He attended school and had been through several foster homes only to emancipate himself at sixteen. After that, he'd lived with Malone.

He recalled the wisdom the old Irish gangster had instilled in him. He'd taught him lessons about the importance of community, "I don't want to be a product of my envioroment. I want my environment to be a product of me."

_b_

He was to the Irish working class of South Waston, what the guineas were in the North End or what the heroin dealers from North Holland such as Hank Lucas and Ricky Farnes to the black ghettos. From Frank., he had learned history as well. "The knights of Columbus were real head breakers. True guineas. They took over their piece of the city."

He'd also taught him history. And racial tolerance. "Twenty years after an Irishman couldn't get a fuckin job, we had the presidency. May he rest in peace. That's what the niggers don't realize. If I got one thing against the black chappies, it's this. No one gives it to ya. You have to take it."

Yes, he was truly a student of ghetto education. Cameron looked at himself in the mirror. He was thirty years old. His father had been sentenced to 50 years in prison back in 1986 for a murder he was supposedly involved in during 1982. He was charged with murder and conspiracy to commit murder. Anybody else but an FIB agent would have likely gotten life. Or the needle if it wasn't for the death penalty being gone.

He recalled a time not long after his father had been sentenced.

_1988_

The young boy was at a local neighborhood cafe. He wore a white and green striped sweater. The song Give Me Shelter by The Rolling Stones played. He spotted him. Frank walked in smoking a cigar. He wore a light blue demin jacket and aviator sunglasses. Behind the counter was Vinny, a balding and overweight Caucasian man with a receding hairline that had once been brown and his eyes were brown as well. He was the owner of the place and his daughter Colleen was also working. She was a petite redhead. She was about fifteen or sixteen. Cameron himself was 9. He had a crush on her. Vinny got some money from the till and handed it to Frank. In broad daylight. "Vin..don't make me have to come down here again for this."

"It won't happen again, Mr. M..."

Colleen wore a blue sleeveless blouse. "Colleen's developing into a fine young lady," Remarked Frank. Her blue top was tied in a knot but lower on the stomach so that only a little bit of skin was shown. He purchased a pack of smokes and asked her, "You get your period yet, Colleen?" She didn't answer but Cameron could see the question made her uncomfortable. "You Johnny Moriarty's kid?" He asked suddenly looking at Cameron. The boy nervously nodded. "Yeah."

Frank turned to Vinny. "Vin, get him a couple of loafs of bread, couple half gallons of milk. You like baloney and cheese? Give him some cold cuts, throw some sodas and some mayo in."

He quickly bagged all of taht up and handed it to him. "You like comic books?" Frank asked as he grabbed a Batman comic. The boy nodded. He put it in his brown bag. Frank asked him, "You do good in school?"

"Yeah..."

"That's good. I did too. They call that a paradox."

He handed the girl a twenty and said, "Just keep it. Buy yourself some makeup."

He then handed the kid some change. "You ever want to earn some extra money, you come by L street. You know where I am on L Street?"

Cameron nodded. "Good. Good boy."

Not long after that, the kid had been confirmed and after that had gone to see Frank. "The church wants you in your place. Kneel, stand kneel stand. If you go for that sort of thing I don't know what to do with you. A man makes his own way. Nobody gives it to ya. You have to take it. Non serviam."

"James Joyce," Replied Cameron. "Smart boy! Guineas from the North End try and tell me what to do. And maybe something happens to them. When you decide to be something, you can be it. That's what they don't tell you in the church," He said putting a cigarette in his mouth. "When I was your age they used to tell me you can either become cops or criminals. Today what I'm telling you is this. When you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?"

_Ramona_

_Por fin en casa_

"I never thought I'd see home again..." Said the dark haired woman as she arrived in Rockford. This was her hometown. Her name was Ramona Guerrero. She was Colombian American a first generation American and she stood at five two, and was petite in size. Her hair was black and she had chest length black hair and wore winged eyeliner. She wore a gray blouse that was shoulderless and tight jeans. She had light brown skin but at the same time, had very strong indigenous features. She was about 64%% Indigenous, 30% European 4% Asian and 2% African according to a DNA test she had once taken. She was of Wayuu and Quchan ancestry as on her mothers side she was Wayuu and on her fathers, he was descended from the Quechan people of Chinchay Suyu.

She sighed as she looked at the neighborhood. It had been a few years since the Colombiana had been back home. She was twenty-three years old. Her parents had been deported back to Colombia when she was only a teenager and she had not seen them since. She'd had to become emancipated at a young age and ever since then she had tried to get them back. She was on her way to see the man who she had known growing up. A youngster who unlike her, had not done much to better himself in life but all the same had been a decent friend to her growing up. She was going to see Vincente "El Buho" Garcia.

The neighborhood of Rockford had been mostly black when she left and it still was. It hadn't yet become one of those neighborhoods in major cities such as bLiberty City, Los Santos, and Vice City, which had become browner. All though la gente were the second largest group. Brown people like her were about 26% of the population of Rockford while blacks made up 56% a bit less than before she'd left. It had been a rough area before she left and she could see the mestizo population growing.

She walked past a group of African Americans dressed in Hip Hop style clothing. They whistled at her. "What's good, mama?" She ignored them as she had been cat called by all walks of men in Liberty City when she'd lived there too. "Aight fuck you then!" She flipped them off with a grin and a black dude wearing bagy jeans, a black puffy jacket and a gold necklace turned to a black dud with cornrows and a grill saying, "Aye I think she likes you, Ty."

They were not gang members. They were just regular hood hustlers. Knuckleheads. She spotted some men up ahead who were gang members however, as she walked a few satreets away. She spotted a group of Colombian men, about four standing on a corner smoking. The first was a dark skinned man with slicked back black hair wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket and blue jeans despite it being 80 degrees out. That was typical of Colombian men even back home. The second gang member wore a red silk shirt and gray khakis plus a black vest and a gold crucifix necklace. The third was dressed more like a cholo wearing a yellow and blue shirt. He wore a red bandana tied around his forehead with his gelled hair sticking out of the top.

The fourth wore clothes similar to the second man but with a blue shirt. This gang was known as Los Parceros. Female members were called Parceras. There was about 2000 members total. 800 in Waston and 1200 in Liberty City. Unlike most gangs in America where a gang would start off in one city and then spread to others, the gang had been founded by two men from Colombia back in 1993. One had gone from Meddelin to Liberty City and the other had gone to Waston.

She'd been back there a few times to visit her parents despite not being able to get them back into the country. Most of their family lived here despite originating in Colombia. She knocked on the door of her brother's house. There was no answer. She tried the door. She figured that maybe he was at El Buho's place. She approached the Colombian gang members. "Bueno. ¿Me puedes ayudar con algo?"

(Bueno. Can you help me with something?)

The Colombian in the leater jacket asked, "¿Qué pasa? ¿Perdiste?" (What's wrong? You lost?)

She explained, "No. Busco a mi hermano, Héctor Guerrero."

(No, i'm looking for my brother, Hector)

"¿Quieres decir El Cuervo?"

(You mean El Cuervo)

She sighed a bit impatient. "Bien, entonces, ¿puedes decirme dónde está el búho?"

(Okay then can you tell me where El Buho is?"

The Colombian with the bandanna's eyes narrowed at her. "How do you know who that is?" He demanded. "i don't know you. Why should we say where he is?"

"I grew up with him," She told him. "He's like a brother to me. If you don't believe me just ask him."

The OG in the leather jacket told her, "Está con El Parche. Sólo tienes que ir a pocas cuadras por Albert DeSalvo avenue. Será la casa con un vudú rojo brillante al frente."

(He's with El Parche. Just go a few blocks down over to Albert DeSalvo avenue. It'll be the house with a bright red Voodoo out front.)

"¿Qué? ¿Está involucrado con los Parceros?"

(What? He's involved with the Parceros?)

"Sólo ve a ver El Buho, mija. Si no está con él, sabrá dónde estará," The South American gangster instructed her. (Just go see El Buho, mija. If he's not with him, he'll know where he'd be.)

She went down the street. She spotted a couple of females who were also gang members.

She went and knocked on the door ignoring stares. A man of about six two with deep brown skin gelled hair with a red checkered shirt khakis, and a blue bandanna answered. "El Buho..." She said. He looked at her shocked. "Ramona? Since when are you back?"

She smiled hugging him. "Just got in."

"What brings you back to el barrio?"

She said, "Trying to get my familkia back together. Is Hector in?"

"Yeah he's here..." He let her in. "About that...I heard..."

He came in the room. The twenty one year old was smoking a blunt. He had a tattoo on his right bicep of Our Lady of the Rosary of Chiquinquirá. He had blue baggy jeans but it did not sag as he had a belt. He was twenty one and had light brown skin a bit of a mustache and slicked back hair. He wore a white wife beater. His eyes narrowed looking at her. "What are you doing here?" He was not thrilled to see her.

She took a breath before speaking.

* * *

_That's it for tis chapter I meant to make it longer but I am having a shitty day part of it is cause of what's happening in North Dakota. I hate cops._

_Anyway, so Diane Guerrero from orange is the new black is the basis for Ramona I couldn';t think of a different name than Veronica maybe I'll change it like Zilla 2000 did. In fact I will I just am lazy so right now I just wanted to get this chapter up. So just like Marcus Roman In Roman Empire she is 5'2 and that's hard enough as a man even harder as a woman so I made her a Navy Seal which will give her an edge over most people she fights of any size all though she will still have a hard time in some fights like Mark does. The cut off height for women is 4'10 so it could work. Yeah_

_So the Paganelli's are based on the Patriarcha family of North End Boston and Providence which in this is called Prudence. Autumn Hill is the Winter Hill gang. So Cameron is based on Matt Damon's character in The Departed just as Frank "Pinky" Malone is based on Jack Nickolson's portrayal of Whitey Bulger._

_Jin Lao is visually based off of Daniel Wu from Into The Badlands. Bao-Zhi is visually based off of Michael Delmare who played Jia Kenimin on Oz. _

_The Iron Dragons are based off the _ Ping On branch of the 14K Triads.

_Danny is based on Edward Burns from Saving Private Ryan, Fitzy is based on David O'Hara, Mr. French is based on Ray Rhinestone as before but also with a twist of Burke from Mafia III. _

_El Buho is based on a younger Benjamin Bratt while I'm thinking Hector is based on Danny Paz from American Me and Boulevard Nights but is based more on his role of Chuco from Boulevard Nights visually. _

_The Parceros are based on the gang Los Urabenos. I was thinking of making them based on the Medellin cartel as well but maybe I shouldn't. Then again I have do you think i should change that? Bear in mind Rockstar mixed gangs up too you got the Aztecas being based on both Florencia and 18th street Marabunta on MS and the Avenues and the families ballas been switched around with bloods and crips as far as the colors and basis the Rifas wear light blue kind of an aqua blue rather than red which all though I don't normally see gang members wear that shade of blue, irl in the bay you wear that in a Norteno hood they'd be more likely to think you're with Trece than Catorce. _

_ Parcero means homie if you're Colombian. Parcera would be the female equivalent. _

_The shootout at the docks between the unidentified gunmen, the drug buyers and the Triads was largely based on Vice City's first mission where Vic dies I won't lie it's a hell of a start but I just feel what if you could have done more to defend yourself in that situation. The black dude who is the leader of the buyer who's name will be revealed later is based off Rza from Wu Tang Clan. The light skinned guy is Method Man the fat guy was Raekwon the Chef and the gold teeth guy was Ole Dirty Bastard. _

_And Li Feng was visually based off the man who played Li Cheng on Oz. The other Triad dude it doesn't matter he's dead. _

_El Parche is Colombian slang for saying the crew Gideon is visually based on Adam Goldberg._

_So next chapter will be longer. I just have to not have a shitty day when finishing it._


	6. This Aint Heaven

_Rockford_

_Inner City Blues_

Ali Henriques Ford finally set foot home. It had been sixteen years since he'd been on the streets. Ali was a six-foot tall dark skinned black male. He was of African American descent on his father's side and Cape Verdean on his mother's side. He had curly hair and a black goatee and mustache his face had somewhat of a Lion like look to it possibly due to his resting expression as well as that combined with his facial hair it gave him the appearance of a lion.

He had just gotten out of prison. He had done sixteen years in the federal prison system in the midwest. This wasn't the only thing that defined him but it was a major thing that did. He was from out here and he had three children. Two sons and a daughter. His oldest son Jerome was twenty six and from what he'd heard through kites youngin was all fucked up in the game. He had a

He had a daughter , Rochelle who was 20 going on 21 and had kept her nose clean and a younger son from a different woman who was nineteen named Tamir. Tamir, despite being half brother to the other two was close to them but he resented Ali and yet he was following the footsteps of Jerome who though he did not hate Ali was in fact headed down the same path to hell Ali had been on. He'd even been conceived during a conjugal visit. The reason that Tamir hated him was that he had been seeing Tamir's mother at the same time he'd been with the first mother of his children.

Despite the fact that his first wife had divorced him, he had been fucking around on her with Tamir's mother and Tamir hated him for this because he had treated her like a whore in Tamir's view. Even though he had been around for Tamir in the first two years of his life, he had gone to the pen after that.

He was on his way to see them now. These last sixteen years he had a lot of time to reflect on the choices he'd made. He was stopping off at his ex's house first as he knew his daughter, Rochelle lived there still with her mama. Ali had not had an easy life. For one thing, he had grown up in these very streets and he had lost his father out here. In the 1960's he was born to Jeremiah Ford, an African American and Mariah Henriques, a Cape Verdean, in 1962. His mother had been an exchange student while his father, initially a member of the Nation Of Islam at the time, becoming a close and personal bodyguard to Macolm X who would later follow him out of the Nation and join his group, he became a Black Panther a year or so later and recruited his mother to.

His father had of course been drafted into Vietnam and had served from 1968 to 1969 but when he came home they had moved to his mother's homeland and the yhad lived there for two years. His father had them traveling around Africa despite living in Cape Verde, he had also traveled to Nigeria, to Ghana, to Liberia and to South Africa where he had tried to donate as much as he could to the African National Congress and Umkhonto we Sizwe also known as Spear Of The Nation. r

In the 1970's, he returned to the United State where the ghettos were getting worse with crime and poverty in the wake of desegregation as well as that of law enforcement crackdowns on revolutionary organizations. On June 19th, 1974, when Ali was just twelve years old, his father had been gunned down in a raid by the FIB on a Black Panther safehouse. He'd managed to take two lawmen down with him beforr he was killed but killed he was. During the autosospy report they said his father had been riddled with twenty five rounds.

His father had taught Ali and his sister how to shoot guns in the past too. He believed they needed to learn to defend themselves but insisted it was not a toy. And to not pull a gun on anybody he didn't intend to shoot. Unlike a lot of other fathers in the ghetto, who had started that cycle of abandoning their kids in large numbers and dropping out in the 70's, the days the black community started to fall from grace, his father had not been one of those people. He had simply been taken from him. It had left Ali bitter and hateful towards the government and law enforcement as a whole.

He had unfortunatly, as the ghetto got worse in the 80's, had to use these skills his father had intended for him to one day use for helping people and protecting his family, just to protect himself. In those days, Ali and other kids from the neighborhood started hanging out and getting into trouble. They often got into fights with kids from other neighborhoods. In thse days in the early and mid eighties, Waston was not a city full of famous national street gangs the way that Los Santos and Carcer City was. While Pinky Malone and his Irish thugs were running numbers and fighting wise guys in a war between the North End and Southie, Ali was often having to fight guys from his own neighborhood because they lived just a few blocks away.

But it wasn't ethnic feuds the way the Irish and Italians funked or even the way pops had fought redneck cracker cops from all over. This was their own kind. In their own city within a city. The sections of the neighborhood split up. All though there was no national gangs at the time in Waston shit started getting rough with the influx of heroin in the 70's and cocaine in the 80's. Ali had started off in middle school just being well off enough to be in fist fights. Of course, by fourteen, however, despite usually getting good grades he started fighting and soon he had to carry a switch blade. By sixteen, he had to carry his pops old Smith &amp; Wesson that he had from his days when he was known as Jeremiah X.

It was in High School that people started fist fighing less and shooting more. The mid seventies. By eighteen, Ali already had a juvie record for selling heroin but because he had been a minor his record got expunged. He had dropped out at sixteen but competed school inside. By the time the early 80's rolled around he was a small time hustler just like he was in school but he had more wealth than just moving grass and small amounts of smack. Before long he was able to afford a gold chain necklace, a pager and even a cell phone and a car. He bought aparments for his mom and his sister.

He'd promised mama he was flying straight with a job at the docks but often he used that shit to clean his money as well as strip clubs and laundry mats. The funny thing was he even got a few of his co-workers strung out on his product. He was used to slinging in the hood but by getting people hooked at the docks he was getting exposed to clientel from other races too. A lot of his friends back then were slinging too but they weren't being smart about it. They were getting doped up themselves. More problems came when after what had been some peaceful and prosperous years in the early 80's, there started being more tension with rival blocks and hoods again. Shootouts and robberies were common. People from a project they'd never gotten along with, Cherry Park, a housing project in Rockford, the historically black area of Waston, were shooting at boys from Vespucci Point. Those of his friends that didn't OD on their own product, at least half of those that remained were killed in gunfights with Cherry Park hustlers.

By 1988, they'd had enough. They started the Vespucci Point Crew. To solidify theot power on the streets, Ali moved onto crack cocaine The toll it took on the nenighborhood was disastorous. All though Ali had dropped several bodies by 89' they had never pinned any of them to him but he did have a misdimeaner posession charge from 86' to 88' and he went back to the pen for two more years. Of course, prior to a lot of these incarcerations, he'd had his children. He'd had Jerome in 83' and Rochelle in December 88' and Tamir had been born in 9'1

He paid the cabbie and got out. He was in the middle of the Vespucci Point Projects. He walked up seeing a couple of the old knuckleheads outside. He spotted somebody he thought he recognized, Alfredo. The last time he'd seen Alfredo he was a youngin. "Oh shit! Big time in the motherfucking house what;s good my nigga?!" Asked Alfredo as he held his hand out dapping Ali. "It's good young brother. My lord, it's been a while. Aint seen you since you were what, twelve?"

"Yeah, that's word but hey i been on the grind out here you feel me? These Cherry Park bitches stay hating but we're the only niggas out here making money, mayne."

"Little brother, do you know what that word means? You really shouldn't refer to yourself or others as that."

"Yo, you aight, Ali? You look...different...you talk different too."

"I am different. I'm not looking to get into anymore trouble. I'm looking to stay out of prison this time. But I've been hearing bad things about what Jerome and Tamir have been up to."

"Yo, you're like a God to Jerome, man. Tamir, I mean to him you're like the Devil to him I aint even gonna front with you. But it's funny cause he act just like you did back in the day. Just a little more hot headed though."

He then looked at Alfredo and said, "Al, your father...he had you in his heart before he went..."

"Yeah, real spit I never took pops for a faggot."

"He wasn't. He had an addiction. A sickness. Don't get me wrong when I was young we thought that was the only people that could get HIV but it's just not true. I hear you have children too. Whether you married into your black side or Puerto Rican side both sides have rich heritage. But whatever you chose you need to teach them better than we were taught."

A dark skinned black male in a beanie wearing a puffy back jacket and gold hoop earrings standing at five ten with dark skin turned to him and said, "Yo, Lil K, dog, this that nigga Ali, man! OG Ali from the hood!" The man tried to dap him but Ali offered his hand. "Whassup I'm Lil K."

"What's your real name? And shake my hand like a man,"

"They call me Kenard, sir but that's my slave name. Anyway word, you're like my hero. You're like the Escobar of the projects, my dude. Like for real mad respect."

"I haven't done much with my life to be proud of but I'm going to change that."

"I still respect you big, dog, oh and this my man Bulldog," Bulldog was a light skinned black male with a shaved head and he wore a plaid red shirt and black baggy jeans plus a white bandanna tied around his head. "What's up, big homie? You look swole as a motherfucker, dog."

"Yeah yeah thats all good and all that but is my son around?"

Kenard whistled, "Yo J Bird! C'mere, nigga!" A medium skin toned black male with a shaved head and somewhat soft eyes came up. He could look like a hard ass but he was a softie at heart as he had known his son as a child even when Ali was carted off to prison when he was ten and had to go to trial, his boy had cried the entire trial. He had with him, an African American woman with curly hair and caramel colored skin. "Pop!" Ali hugged him smiling. "I missed you boy..."

"Likewise, daddy. How you even touch down? We gotta talk about that."

"I'm as surprised as you are but they pardoned Muslim inmates on Ramadan. They would also pardon Jewish inmates during Hannukah not that there were that many of them."

"I'm glad they did, I missed you."

"Who's this lovely young lady?"

"That's Jamila. We been going steady for a minute."

He then saw his ex wife coming outside upon hearing the commotion that Ali was in fact back home. She was a woman with mahogany skin wearing a red Hawaiin blouse with bluish white floral prints on it. In the 70's and 80's she'd had her hair natural but now it was straightened. Myra Thomas, his ex-wife was a middle aged woman who still looked damn good after so many years. She'd aged well.

"Well well, I'll be damned. How you doing jail bird? They finally let ya ass outta the slammer, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like it. Look, Myra, I aint here to start no trouble. I just want to straighten my boys out..."

She beckoned to him to come closer. "Don't you think you're about sixteen years too late for that? I mean I appreciate good intentions and all but still."

"Come on, Myra you weren't exactly tutning away the money I made when I was slinging. I didn't see nobody with a fucking job around here."

"Oh is that so? Well for your information, I got my life straightened out after you went inside. It was on me to keep our children fed and clothed."

"Baby, I sent you money as long as I could."

"Yeah, till they froze your shit up when they realized you were using that shit for the streets too. Then what was I supposed to do? You took care of us for six years but then you let your ego get in the way of your responsibility. You still saw Vespucci Point as your baby but you forgot your own babies. And speaking of babies I aint yours not no more."

"Why you gotta talk to me like that, Myra? I never willingly left ya'll hungry and you know that."

"Nah you were just fucking with other skeezers out there on the streets. And making another baby you didn't raise. And surprise surprise he hates you!"

"Look..I tried to get the homeboys to take care of ya'll when I couldn't. They were supposed to. It aint my fault that they didn't."

"G made sure we was good until I could get a job but he did that outta his own heart don't act like you own that."

"Look Myra, I'm trying to fix everything wrong here. Where's Rochelle?"

"She's in school. She applied to Harwood but she didn't get in cause her GPA was only a 3.0. So she's trying to get it up more. She stays up in Mary's Vineyard these days. She's raising her GPA over at Cape Coq."

He smiled. "That's my girl."

Jerome came up stating, "Hey...dad...I hate to split so soon but I gotta run over to East Waston on some business. "I hope you're not trying to get into even more trouble, Jerome! I heard about your stay in juvie and you doing three years upstate. That aint cool. You need to be better than me."

"Look it aint no thang... no trouble."

"I'm not letting you go there alone. That's the barrio, son you could get killed out there."

"No for real what you doing out there? You best not be going to try and sneak around with that ho, I swear..." Stated Jamila. "Baby, on the hood it aint even like that. I gotta see some of Alfredo's peeps about some shit."

Alfredo covered for him lying. Ali caught it but it seemed that Jamila did not. "Yeah the little homies gotta handle a little something something for me out there. I swear it aint nothing that could get baby boy caught up."

Jerome nodded saying, "Kenard's going with me too."

Jerome got into a black Felon. The colors on Kenard's beanie in addition to it being black was red and gold and he had white on it as well. "Kenard you mind taking that off while w go over there? We're going into East Waston and I don't want my son or me for that matter to be a target cause you're wearing colors."

Kenard pulled the beanie off his head but said, "Aight, bet but it aint the colors people trip on they know my face."

Bulldog was riding with them too but he took the bandanna off his head. "Aight, pops, I'm wit you on that," Jerome stated, "Aight now dad, we headed on over to East we aint there to start no drama. And after that, I'ma drop these two off and we can go pick up Tamir over in Chester. That's where he be at."

"He be at? Don't talk like that son, you're better than that. I'm not saying talk like a Tom but you don't gotta sound like Chicken George either."

"Yeah I heard yo pops found Allah on the real in there, homie," Stated Bulldog. "I did. But it wasn't easy. Nevermind that. What are we going over to East Waston for?" Jerome sighed. "Aight, what had happened was I had an on again off again side thing with this Mexican girl I think she Puerto Rican too. Anyway, she used to be a with the Lady Nation but not no more. I don't think. Eirher way it wasn't working out anyway cause they rather she date a Lord than a nigga...I mean...a guy from Vespucci Point."

"I see...and if you broke it off with her then what more is there to talk about?"

"That's just it dad...she's...she's pregnant...with my baby. We don't gotta stay togeher but aint no way I'ma let my baby grow up without a father. Look I know I made some mistakes you wouldn't be proud of and I know you changed too. Even if mama don't see that, and Tamir don't see that I see it," He knew his son did see it. Even when Myra stopped writing, he never did and neither did Rochelle and he knew if he had been in prison in the state they would have come every time they could have. "I aint trying to be one of these dead beat daddies around here like..."

"Me..." Finished Ali with sadness in his voice as he knew it was true. "Nah it aint like that. I wasn't gonna say that. i just meant a lot of nigas round here abandon they babies. And I know you don't like that word dad but that;s what a lot of people are around here. I read all that knowledge of self you talked about in letters I read the books you told me to check out but there was a lot more black men in your days. Your dad was a role model. He was a black man. But me, all I see are niggas now it's less black men and more niggas out here. I don't see you as a nigga, pop. You the same as your daddy you just got a raw deal. Mama...she's being ungrateful you know how females get."

"Hey don't talk about her like that you hear me? She's still your mama you have to respect her she's the only one you got."

"Aight...I feel you/..hey hold up there goes G Nite right there!" He pulled up alongside a light skinned black male wearing glasses and a Waston baseball cap and a black Eris jacket and blue jeans. "Yo, G! Hop in, man!" G Note, along with Ali and many others, had founded the Vespucci Point Crew. Like Ali, he was in his forties. Definitly an OG by now all though he was forty seven. Growing up, he'd been Ali's best friend.

The middle aged OG got in and his eyes widened in surprise. "Ah shit, Ali! When you get out baby gimme a hug, man!" The two hugged and Ali grinned his white teeth shining. "It's good to see you, brother. How you living?"

"You know me, baby I try to take it one day at a time. The man got me on my toes twenty four seven but I'm maintaining ya heard? Anyway look at you, dude looking all deisel and shit! When you get out?"

"Just a couple of days ago. Pardoned for being a model prisoner. I can hardly believe it myself."

"And the son of a panther no less plus the biggest hustler around the projects. Man, they must be sleeping," Ali chuckled. "Either way, I'm not complaining. A second chance is a second chance. Truly, Allah has blessed me."

"God is good all the time," Stated Jerome. Kenard and Bulldog replied in unison, "And all the time God is good," All though Ali could tell they didn't mean a word of it. "So you're running the crew these days? Listen, I need to holla at you about something," Ali said. They puled up and Jerome said, "Later for that. We here. Now look, I'm going up in there and I'm just gonna talk. I'll be out in five minutes tops."

He went up to an apartment door and knocked. "What you need to talk to me about?" Asked G Nite. "How long me and you go back, bruh?" Asked Ali. "Shit...since 76' my nigga..." Though Ali did not like to be called that word they were old friends o he would let it slide for now especially since he was trying to get a favor from him. "I don't...I don't want my sons in the life, bro. I want them out of it."

"Look, it's a little late for that big daddy don't you think? They already deep in the game. Hw you think J Bird got his name? He's flipping more chickens through the hood than a cartel kingpin. He's doing it big just like his pops did back in the day. He even took it further than you same as Tamir. They sling to college kids now. Remember how we used to get those longshoreman niggas all coked out?"

"Yeah, I remember and it was wrong of us. But I'm not here to pass judgement on you for that. Abnd as for my sons, I don't want them slinging to college students that's supposed to be an institution of higher learning. My daughter is in college, and I wouldn't want some dealer trying to influence her top use either."

"Look...you're talking about two of my best earners out there, dog. How I'm supposed to just explain it to other niggas that rely on them?" He asked. Ali sighed. "That's up to you, bruh. But you're their big homie. If anybody can pull it off, it's you. They'll understand."

"Well look, I took care of youir old lady while you was on the inside. I aint never dropped that many notes on a woman that wasn't mine but you my partna and I know you would have did the same but you owe me thirty g's,. I did the math. I mean shit...you aint the only one with problems, Ali. I got bills to pay. I got kids of my own you feel me? Look...if you do just a few jobs for me...I'll let them walk away from all that but you gotta make sure they even want to cause on the real player, Jerome might listen to you but Tamir? Shiiiit. He'll stay in the game just to spite you."

"That's why I need your help. You could talk to him. You've been like a father to him while I've been locked away like an animal. For better or worse it is what it is. So you have some sway over you. I'll take yhears to earn that back even if I can ever earn his respect or love. But you already have it. If the big dog on the block tells him what's up he's going to listen. Trust me. I know how these youngsters think man I was one of them! I wish my father would have been around to kick my ass the first time I ever picked up a gun and a sack."

" So do we got a deal? I know you trying to stay outta trouble but that's pretty much what I need from you to do this."

"If you keep your word, I guess so. Only because we go way back but after that, it's over, G. No more hood drama for me or my boys you hear?"

"My word is my bond," They shook hands. They waited several minutes and Lil K stated, "Dude in there taking too long. I don't trust that taco vender bitch of his," They heard some screaming back and forth as Ali rolled his window down and he heard his son's voice plus a Spanish speaking woman. Ali heard a female voice scream, "Put the gun down! Get out of my house!" Ali got out and Lil K and ulldog said, "Hold on, old timer, we can't let you go up in there without a piece, man."

"My son's got a gun on her..." He breathed. "Nah, something else is up," Stated G Nite as he got out cocking a Glock 40. "They used to have some intense ass fights and yeah maybe they smacked each other around a few times but it always came with makeup sex but ever since she got pregnant, aint been no hitting and he would never hurt her seriously. Never. He won't pull no gun on a woman."

He handed Ali a Smith &amp; Wesson. "I held onto your old man's piece all this time for ya. It only has three shots up in there but that's how it was when you left it."

"I can't have a gun now, I' a felon,"

"Your son could be up in there right now with some spics drawing on him, homie you wouldn't kill for ya boy?" Ali reluctantly took the pistol. "I'd do anything for him,"

"Aight I got a plan," Stated G Nite. "I'm taking the front. You three take the back go in the sreen door. Even if it's shut that bitch would always keep it unlocked so J could come and go as he needed,"

Lil K and Bulldog readied their own pistols. They hugged the side of the wall. Just then, he heard three gunshots and they went inside. "You shot my cousin you bitch ass nigga!" Screamed an African American who's voice Ali did not recognize. He saw his son grappling with an African American dressed in purple over a gun and he saw a woman with light brown skin of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent who was wearing a yellow sweater and black jeans showing off her voluptuous booty. She had mostly brown hair except her ponytail was dyed gold she had large lips and big brown eyes. "Get off of him!" Screamed the woman as she tackled the purple-clad black male. The black male pistol whipped her and he fired shooting her in the stomach. She cried out in pain falling over.

"MONA!" Screamed Jerome. He tackled the purple clad male. "He's from Cherry!" Shouted Bulldog as he tried to aim down his sight at him but Ali stopped him, "Dont you might hit my son!" The purple clad banger had a gun shoved against the side of Jerome's temple and Ali aimed the .357 at the Cherry Park gang member yelling, "Hey!" The man turned and Ali was just about to shoot and the black male was starting to bring his gun up but before either of them could shoot, Ali felt a round tear into his right shoulder from his blindspot. He slumped against the wall falling over.

He fell over bleeding and Jerome yelled, "Pop!" Ali panicked his heart beatimng as he realized there must have been more than one Cherry Park member in there. They had come in ambushing him! Maybe they had followed them here to ambush him. He'd heard his son was deep in the game but had he actually shot somebody? He tried to turn to shoot the person who had shot him but before he could he was blinded by a flash of light and he fell over as another hot slug hit him this time in the cheek. He fell over blinded by pain and blood hitting the ground. He saw what was happening throiugh blurry vision from the side as he lay side down his left bloodied and torn cheek on the floor as a pool of blood formed beneath him. He saw a few sihllouettes move in the doorway and hesaw his son retreat. He blindked through teary eyes struggling to lift his head as he saw Lil K and Bulldog shooting at the man who had shot him as well as the man who had shot Mona.

Lil K and Bulldog reloaded kneeling down beside him saying something he couldn't hear. He looked to see Mona who was dying moan something to him. He tried to read her lips. It said something like _please...d..._whatever it was, she didn't get to finish her sentence. She coughed up blood as she lay dying. G Nite came in and finally Ali's hearing was coming back. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!" He demanded. "Some niggas shot Ali and Mona, mayne! I aint even see where J Bird went!"

G Nite helped him up saying, "Hold on, baby we gonna get you some help stay with me..."

They helped him to the car and Bulldog demanded, "What the fuck took ya;ll so long and why you aint see J Bird, nigga?!" Demanded Bulldohg. "There was a couple ogf bitch ass Lords in my way, man and he must have ran the other way! Did they shoot him? too?!" Lil K was freaked as they helped Ali to the car. "I don't think so I saw him wrestling the Cherry nigga that shot Mona but I aint see him catch none he must have thought Ali was gone but he booked out maybe hwent after the nigga that did it!"

"Yo wherver he is, J's cars gone!" Lil K yelled. G Nite approached a dark green Willard driven by a Puerto Rican woman. He aimed his gun in her face pulling her out yelling, "Bitch you better give this shit up before I bust yo shit!"

"How did they get the drop on ya'll it was three of ya'll motherfuckers!" Hollered G Nite as they got in speeding off. As he lay in the back seat he saw two dead Spanish Lords out front ogf the apartment entrances courtesy of G Nite just before the door was shit. "It wasn't just one of him it was two niggas with him too! They must have either kicked the motheafucking door in either before he came through or after while we was waiting!"

"Man, what the fuck kind of pussy shoots a woman with a baby?!" Demanded Lil K. "A Cherry nigga! They all scandolous!" Screamed Bulldog. They took off saying, "We gotta get Ali to a hospital," Ali tried to speak. "My son...you have to...help...first..." Blood gushed from his face. "Save your strength homie we got you..."

"No hospital...before...son..." Lil K said, "Shit he aint gonna let up till we go see where J is, man...where would he go besides the hood?"

"That 24/7 over on Jefferson. It's some niggas from the point that hang out there. He's probably gonna try and get some hitters to go light up the projects in Cherry!" Ali begged with all the strength he had, "Go..." G Nite understood whatr his friend was asking him. "Man he's gonna die before we get there, "Complained Lil K. "Just keep pressure on his face, fool! If he dies I'm smoking both of you motherfuckers!" Yelled G Nite. G Nite said, "Fuck this, ya'll whether he there or he aint I'm calling an ambulance," He dialed the paramedics and told them where to show up.

They sped their way to the 24/7. Ali was barely conscious he was fading in and out. "Hey stay with us, dog, we got you," Assured Bulldog. They wewre about two blocks away from the store before long. They heard four gunshots suddenly and Ali freaked out. They sped into the parking lot and Bulldog announced, "There his car go right there!" Lil K and G Nite got out and G Nite said, "Shit...I know that aint my nigga, man!" He approached the driver window. "Damn...J...what happpened?" Jerome had been shot four times. Once in the left arm once in the right arm once in the abdomen and once in the face just below his right eye. He was collapsed against the sterring wheel. The paramedics were there on the scene. G Nite carried Ali out and he ordered his two soldiers, "Get that motherfucker outta there!" Referring to the stolen car. The police had arrived too along with the paramedics.

Ali was losing consciousness but before he went out, he got a look at his son's body. He wanted to cry out but he had no strength. Everything then went black.

_Ezra_

_Nights In Rockford_

He pulled up to the housing project as Alfredo had requested. He saw a couple of African Americans standing guard outside. The first had dread locks and a denim jean jacket and baggy blue jeans and under this a clean white hoodie. The second was bald and black with dark skin wearing a puffy red coat and baggy black jeans. "You can't go up in therew. Where you from?"

"Alfredo asked me to come here," Stated Ezra. "Aight we'll see about that but you still aint answer me where you from. You a Arab or what?"

"No. Isreali. Does it really matter? I help Alfredo with jobs here and there.'

"Shit, if Al aint told you he sluffing. Ya'll aint the true Hebrews, dog. The real Jews are Negros, Latinos and Native Americans."

"Really?" Said Ezra with sarcasm. "That's interesting I thought I was speaking Hebrew and observing the holidays while keeping Shabbat sacred and that all of those groups you mentioned were originally polytheist but thank you for telling me."

"Yeah well now you know, beyatch. You aint nothing but a Ishmelite. A stanking ass Arab."

"Funny, I think all the Palestinians I killed in the West Bank would disagree with you there."

"So? That don't mean shit all that proves is Arabs kill Arabs like niggas kill niggas. You aint the child of the most high you a heathen."

Alfredo came outside and said, "Hey let's roll, man we gotta go meet some of my partnas over in Chester."

Ezra wondered to himelf, _I wonder what's going on there now?_

* * *

_That's it for this chapter it's a short chapter but very eventful and you got to be introduced to my fifth protagonist. So Ali is visually based on Eamonn Walker and his character is slightly based on his character Kareem Said from Oz up to the Muslim who is reformed and has some black power views but at the same time due to the death of his son, he is going to lose any faith he had. _

_As far as what Ali originally went down for, let's just say it was trafficking but long story short there was a major drug transaction he wasn't the main player behind it but he was involved it was his hood and some Colombians they had made a deal out in Carcer City and they all got busted. He was originally suppposed to serve twenty five years and he'd been denied earlier parole dates so he just stopped going but after he converted to Islam about eight years in when he would serve another eight (He didn't know that) he started behaving better due to his religion and he was pardoned by the governor. Of course, this is a nod to Oz when Kareem was pardoned but he turned it down. _

_I think if Kareem had kids on the outside it would have been another story as to if he would have said no or not. Also him being part Cape Verdean adds a unique aspect of his ancestry to him in that I mean a lot of Massachuesetts African immigrants are Cape Verdean and so all ythough I didn't get into that yet Ali can speak Portuguese because of it but one thing you might find interesting though is maybe it's due to the degree that Cape Verdeans were colonized by Portugal, idk but one weird thing about their country is most of them don't consider themselves black much like a lot of urban mestizos in the Spanish speaking parts of the Americas may not identify as Native. mean this is strange too because it's one thing if you meet a black Brazilian or Dominican who doesn't admit they are black or African or they identify as mulatto as if it was a race of its own but you wouldn't think an African country would say that. _

So I may touch up on that dynamic a bit.

_So Bulldog is visually based on Samuel Monroe Jr. from Tales From The Hood, Menace II Society and Set It Off he'll probably appear in one of my west coast gangster stories too either as Families or Ballas but to me Samuel Monroe Jr kind of has more of a _crip_ vibe to him than Piru. _

_So the Vespucci Point Crew is based on the Boston gang _Colombia_ Point Dogz and Cherry Park (I may change it to Hymen Park but still have Vespucci Point gangsters cal themselves cherry poppers it's more tongue in cheek) is based on Orchard Park a gang that is a rival to the Columbia Point Dogz and I know CP _aint_ exactly in Roxbury but close enough to be rivals._

_So Jerome AKA _J Bird_ is or was visually based on Michael B Jordan. Myra , whom Ali may possibly rekindle his romance from before with, is based on Pam Grier, G Nite is based on Guru from Gang Starr and his threatening to bust that lady's _shit_ is a reference to the song by them in which Guru was the vocals. I haven't really decided on who should visually be the basis for Lil K. _No_ it's not Crazy K's actor from Tales From The _Hood but_ I could maybe use some help _besides_ him. Somebody who's been in more than one movie that I've seen lol. _

_Anyway since Orchard Park though originally was a Boston gang, homegrown, they fly blood _i_ decided to make them Ballas in addition to their hood gang affiliation. _

_Cape Coq is based on Cape Cod Mary's Vineyard should be obvious, Harwood is a parody of Harvard. _

_So Mona was visually based on Dascha Polanco from Orange Is The New Black. Tamir did not appear in this yet but he is visually based on JD Williams from Oz and The Wire and The Night Of. _

_I'm not going to get into any details in the authors note on here but let's just say the shooting in the 24/7 of Jerome by the Cherry/Orchard Park member is based on an actual shooting of somebody I went to the same middle school and high school with. It happened a few years ago but when i heard about it I was like holy shit._

_Also Chester is based on Dorchester. Cause why not? It's a pun it gets the point across. _

_Also the guy Ezra encountered is visually based on Lord Jamar from Oz. He' a 5%er in real life and on Oz and the thing about 5%ers, the Nation of Islam and Hebrew Israelites is that while they may differ on the semantics of beliefs they are largely black supremacist religions and so you even have Nation Of Islam members who though they may not like Jewish people they will say the original Jews were dark skinned and p[robably black even though dark skinned doesn't equal black always in fact it usually doesn't. Like 75% of the time I would say if you look at the world demographics. _

_But I intend to have Ezra get into it with some Hebrew Isrealies who believe pretty much what he does and whats funny is they'll call white jews fake white imposters or Esau fair enough buit even middle eastern looking jews who can tie their bloodline back to the middle east they accuse of being Arab imposters or Ismehlites. So you're going to see more of that._

_Also I showed Alfredo in two different protagonists views because he is a member of Vespucci Point since in real life Benzino s affiliated with CPD. _

_So do you think that the other two shooters who shot Ali in addition to the Cherry Baller shooting Jerome and Mona, do you think it was two more Cherry Park gang members OR do you think it was two local Spanish Lords since her current status in the gang was unknown and whether or not she was still banging was uncertain? The answer may shock you. Either way they wouldn't be happy with her dating outside her gang. You can bet though that these shootings will not go unanswered. And all though these guys assumed Mona was Mexican and PR she was just Mexican they just assumed that if she was Mexican she must also be PR since PR' are the prodominant group in East Boston and an American isn't likely to know the difference culturally or know better. I had her hair the color it was though cause that' her hair on Orange plus honestly a lot of Latin Queens do that anyway. _

_I picked Ali's representation because all though his Oz basis grew up in the projects and was a criminal he's not a criminal he uses minimal profanity and he doesn't usually call himself or other blacks a nigga he's basically a realistic but non-stereotypical character and socially conscious. Let's just say there's going to be hell to pay when he does recover. He's not ex military the way Ramona is. And no they are not the same person, all though Mona can be short for Ramona I had honestly forgotten what I had my Navy Seal character named so i had to go look but now i remember but anyway in this case Mona is just a name on its own not a diminutive of Ramona besides Ramona is Colombian and based on Diane Guererro. _

_Regardless of whether or not he was trying to break it off, and regardless of what they planned, the fact is that yes, Mona was pregnant so it was not a double homicide but instead a triple. That three initial shots Ali heard was actually Jerome firing upon the rival gang member while in their house. I know what seems yo have went down seems confusing but more will be revealed down the line. _

_Also, the mission with Ezra will conclude next chapter and the other characters wil be shown I just wanted to get this updated._

_Hope you enjoyed. _


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